The Sisterhood Volume One
by theshadoelady
Summary: Where DID Lily Potter learn the Olde Magick that saved baby Harry?  This is my answer as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the gang return to Hogwarts to learn the same Magicks.  Romance, angst, and sex magick ensues.  AU, HGSS, RWLL, RLNT, and more. My 1st try
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Sisterhood; Volume One: Seven Sisters Are Called

By: theshadoelady

Disclaimers: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, or the wonderful world thereof. The exclusive rights to that belong to J. K. Rowlings(I'm not worthy!), but I enjoy that world and all the extraordinary characters she gave life to. This effort of mine is set in an alternate universe, sometime after "The Half-Blood Prince" and before "The Deathly Hallows". In my universe, Severus Snape didn't kill Dumbledore because of an 'Unbreakable Promise', but at Dumbledores' own instigation for purposes to be explored in later chapters. Be patient with me, please. I fear the tale I have imagined might be bigger than my ability to tell, but there will be humor, angst, love, sex magic, ancient forces, and a final glorious battle with Voldemort.

Premise of Story: I have always wondered 'where DID Lily Potter learn the Old Magic that enabled her to save baby Harry?' This is MY explaination, MY alternate universe, and MY new characters that I'm introducing. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I've enjoyed creating them. With all the characters that I've borrowed from J. K., I'll TRY to follow canon as closely as I possibly can, but bear with me in allowing some lee-way for the interaction of my characters. There may even be some 'happily ever-afters' in their futures, but first we must rescue a helpless "Snarky" and begin our adventure.

Authors' Note": This is a work in progress, but I will promise to try to update as regularly as I can. I welcome all reviews, but please be kind. I am a virgin, afterall !

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The Sisterhood: Volume One; Seven Sisters Are Called

Chapter One: Number 12 Grimwauld Place; or It's Never Good News At 3a.m.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

"Bloody hell, Harry! What's happening now?" shouted a rumpled Ron Weasley, trying to make himself heard over the din in the hallway.

"I don't know," Harry shouted back.

Hermione stepped out of her bedroom just a second before both Fred and George bolted out of their bedroom to join Harry and Ron in the hallway.

"It sort of sounds like when Mum's angry in the kitchen," hollered Fred as the racket continued complete with a females' voice shouting for Harry.

The five of them bounded down the stairs, and into Harry's living room. The fireplace was blazing with the leaping green flames of the floo network, and Madam Pomfrey was indeed banging together two pan lids, "Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! Please answer!" she called in a panicked voice, "You are needed at Hogwarts immediately!"

"What's wrong, Madam?" Harry asked, as a second dreadful noise began with a pounding on the front door. Fred and George drew their wands simultaneously from their faded dressing gowns, and with the briefest of nods to Harry, went to answer the door.

Madam Pomfrey continued in a much calmer tone, now that she was assured of Harrys' wellbeing, "Potter, the Deatheaters have stormed Azkaban! Ministry officials, prison officers, even some Aurors are dead or reported missing. All the incarcerated Deatheaters and the supporters of You-know-who from the time before are now free. Lucius Malfoy has escaped, and young Mr. Malfoy with two Slytherin girls have come seeking Sanctuary. I've granted it to them, but Harry, you must come! I fear the end is fast approaching , and we must prepare!" With a sudden 'Whoosh!', the floo call was cut off.

Ron and Hermione stared worriedly at Harry, as he absentmindedly rubbed his scar as he sometimes did when he thought about Voldemort. "Well Hermione, so much for 'sometimes a headache is just a headache'," Harry quipped humorlessly.

Fred and George stepped back into the living room, closely followed by Neville Longbottom and a thin mousey girl in a pale blue nightie.

"Harry, you'll never believe it! I was in the woods near my Grans' house, you know cutting wild night blooming herbs, and this girl comes screaming at me like she's got Dementors on her arse! She said she needed help, so I brought her to you. I didn't know where else to go," Neville finished in a rush.

Hermione went over to comfort the weeping girl, as Harry removed his dressing gown and draped it over her too thin shoulders. As Hermione looked more closely at the girl, recognition kicked in and she said, "You're a Hufflepuff, right? Miss . . . Mayhew, I think?"

The sobbing ebbed away, and the frail girl nodded. She swallowed back her tears and spoke in a soft, timid whisper, "Gillian. My name is Gillian. My father had been in Azkaban for years, and my mum and I have been in hiding. Then tonight I was awakened by my mums' screams. My dad was there, and he was 'Cruscio'ing her over and over. It was horrible!"

Gillian gave a shuddering breath, and continued, "When he put his hands around her throat , our house elf, Whimsey, teleported me to safety. I know Whimsey gave her life to save mine, because the last thing I saw was her taking the full force of the Avada Cadavera' he'd aimed at me. The next thing I knew, I was in the woods near where we used to gather medicinal herbs, and I started running," she finished her story, and screwed her eyes shut tight, as if by doing so she could erase all she'd witnessed.

"There, there," Hermione crooned sympathetically, wrapping her arm protectively around Gillians' shoulders. "Come with me upstairs and we'll find you something a bit warmer to put on. There's enough clothes been left by both Ginny and myself that we'll get you kitted out in a trice." She gave a significant look to Harry over top of the smaller girls' head. At his barest hint of a nod, Hermione led the trembling girl out of the room and up the staircase.

"Well, there goes all our promises we'd made to mum and dad and Ginny about being good and staying out of trouble shat down the loo," grumbled Ron.

Georges' reaction was to ping a licorice snap off Rons' head, to which the snap took offense and bit down hard onto Rons' ear. "Ow! That bloody hurt, George!"

Fred said, "I'm just glad they're safely in Italy visiting the Zambini family estates." George added, "What if dad'd been at the Ministry when it was attacked? This time he might've been killed."

All three Weasley sons nodded soberly, and began to feel for the first time that this infatuation Ginny seemed to have for Blaise Zambini might not be such a bad thing after all.

Harry looked at Neville, and Neville read the unasked question there. Neville thought about the way Gillian had clung to him when she'd run up on him in the woods. A strength he'd never known he possessed had flooded through him as he'd held her on his broomstick flying to Harrys' house. He was her hero. He HAD to go.

"Don't leave without me! I just need to floo Gran, and let her know that Harry needs me," Neville said, as he tossed a handful of floo powder into the hearth and called, "Grans'!"

A short time later, five males and two females began filing into Madam Pomfreys' sitting room led by Harry and Ron. There were already five girls waiting ; two Slytherins, Elspeth Wilde and Erika Bonham; two Ravenclaws, Miranda Waverly and Luna Lovegood; and one Gryffindor, Amanda Blake. And ensconced in his solitary splendor , Draco Malfoy, with the familiar smirk scrawled across his handsome face.

"Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey began, only to be interrupted. "Harry, please just call me Harry, Madam," he said before coloring up at his rudeness. :I'm sorry, please continue."

"Ahem, very well, Harry," she said as she cleared her throat, uncomfortable having to be in the position of authority, but accepting it as her duty. "Hogwarts Sanctuary has been invoked, and granted to all present. There is one more person who is in need of Sanctuary, but he must be rescued first. Harry, you have my solemn word that it was part of Dumbledores' final order. He said Severus Snape HAD to be present at our final battle, or we will lose. He implanted something, a spell, or a curse, I don't know which into Severus. But right now, Severus is confined in St. Mungo's , because he went catatonic after . . . , well you know."

"NO!" screamed Harry. "That evil bastard MURDERED Dumbledore! Whatever happens to him, whatever he suffers, whatever the Ministry sentences him to isn't enough! It will NEVER be enough! " A sick, twisted smile worthy of any Slytherin curled his lips as he continued, "The only way I'd lift a finger to help Snape is if Albus Dumbledore himself ordered me to."

"So St. Potter's got a dark side after all," sneered Draco from his comfortable armchair. "A respected Hogwarts professor, an Order of the Phoenix member, a needed warrior for the final battle, is sitting straight-jacketed , having tea with Alice and the MadHatter, unable to even defend himself while Deatheaters and Dementors are searching for him. And YOU will not help save him! Merlin, that's cold even by old Lucius' standards!"

Before Harry could offer his retort, Pomfrey exclaimed, "ENOUGH! Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, you will both come with me now!" She grabbed two ears, one attached to Harry, and one attached to Draco, and pulled both of them into the hallway. "Your wands, gentlemen," she said, tapping her left foot impatiently, holding out her hand. Both sheepishly surrendered their wands, and followed her obediently down the hallway.

Pomfrey took a calming breath, and said in a more reasonable tone, "We don't have time to waste on petty squabbles and stray hexes. You each have a final message from Albus. We're going to his chambers to see if they will clear this up, or at least answer some of your questions."

By this time, they were standing in front of the great stone phoenix that guarded the spiraling staircase that led to their former headmasters' quarters. Hagrid came striding down the corridor to join them as Pomfrey wriggled her fingers and uttered Albus' final password, "Sweet Regrets."

The statue slid aside with its' usual soft scrape, and the staircase began its' upward spiral as they each stepped onto a step and solemnly climbed up to see if Dumbledore really might have left them a plan.

End Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: See page one, chapter one for more information, and my disclaimers on ownership. I'm not J. K. Rowlings, and donot own any rights to HP, or her world thereof. This is my very own alternate universe, and I hope you enjoy visiting it! More to follow as soon as possible.

Chapter Two: Dumbledore Speaks; or The Plot Thickens

Pomfrey led them into Dumbledores' private chambers. There in its' niche stood his glowing Pensive, his memories rolling around like a nicely boiling cauldron. She crossed over to Dumbledores' desk, and retrieved two rolled, sealed parchments. One was addressed to Harry Potter, the other to Draco Malfoy.

"You first, Potter," snarled Draco.

Harry stared at the familiar writing, and the same seal that had been on every one of his Hogwarts' letters for six years. He sighed, and broke the seal. There stood a golden, glittering hologram of the Headmaster, smiling and twinkling as he always had. Then the beloved image became quite serious, and spoke.

"Harry, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "I know there is much you do not understand, but do be a good lad, and be advised by Minerva and Poppy and Severus. I wish I could be here for you, Harry, but if you are viewing this I must regrettably be dead."

The image gave a rather sheepish smile, and continued, "There plots within plots, Harry, and plans within plans. Balance must be restored. Tom Riddle must be completely destroyed, or Chaos will come to rule and both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds will cease to exist. There are forces at work that even he cannot comprehend. Allow yourself to be guided by Severus in this, and protect him if you can."

"Severus is our secret weapon. Deep within his psyche, I have placed a trigger that is necessary for our victory. I wish I could be with you, Harry, but you have grown into a fine young man, and a powerful wizard in your own right. Farewell, Harry, until we meet again." The image shimmered and disappeared, leaving Harry unashamedly weeping.

"Now yours, Draco," Pomfrey ordered sternly.

Draco drew a shaky breath, and glanced at Harry. He then extended a perfectly manicured finger and broke the seal on his scroll.

"Mr. Malfoy, will you please quit sniping at Harry?" an identical image of Dumbledore chided him gently, then took on the same sober demeanor as had been in Harrys' scroll. "Draco, you and Harry must come to an understanding and learn to work together for the common good. Surely this is why Severus brought you to me at the winters break your second year? Is this not why you enlisted to spy on your father, and to avoid taking the Dark Mark yourself? Am I mistaken in my trust of you, Draco? Do you betray Severus' Unbreakable Promise to save you from becoming that which you so hate?" The image of Dumbledore looked sadly down at him.

Draco swallowed hard as his eyes scalded with tears he was too proud, and too well-trained to shed.

"I know it hurts to have to go into battle against your own father, Draco," the image continued more gently, "but Lucius made his choice years ago, before you and Harry were even born. The Dark Lord is his All, his Only. There is no room for anyone or anything else." Dumbledores' image turned slightly away for a moment as if it pained him to have to be so blunt, then it turned back as if he could really see Draco and continued, "Oh by the way Draco, tell Severus to trust the Sisterhood. We will need the help of the Olde Ones, and their magic to be victorious." With these final words the image slowly disappeared just like the Chestershire cat, until only his smile remained and it, too, faded away.

The oddly matched foursome stood silent for several long moments. Pomfrey was trying to allow all the males time to pull themselves together, and recover their composure.

Hagrid was openly weeping, smearing at his eyes and nose with a large red and white polka-dot handkerchief. He blew his nose vigorously, and said, "Alright then, let's get to it. Sooner's better than later, I always say."

Pomfrey walked over to where the Pensive stood, as Harry and Draco followed with dragging footsteps. Hagrid drew out Dumbledores' elder wand, and held it poised over the roiling memories stored in the Pensive. Pomfrey called into the mists, "Albus, the time has come! Harry and Draco need to KNOW!" With that word, Hagrid opened the maelstrom with a dip of the elder wand, and Pomfrey motioned Harry and Draco forward.

Harry looked at Draco, and Draco shrugged. Harry had already experienced the pull of the Pensive, so he was not surprised, Draco twirled around in full duelling mode, and exclaimed, "Whoa, bloody hell!" upon his landing abruptly on his perfect arse, and scrambling to his feet in microseconds.

There they stood in Severus Snapes' private sitting room. Dumbledore was reclining on a black leather sofa with several pillows supporting his head, and a soft blanket of Slytherin green covering his feet. A variety of empty potion bottles stood in disarray on the low table in front of the sofa. Snape was rummaging through his potions case, a worried frown scrawled across his features.

"Severus," Albus spoke raspily, "it's not going to work. I can feel myself slipping away."

"No, Albus!" We need you. I'm not giving up, and I will not allow you to give up either," Snape said, as he looked away to regain his composure.

Dumbledore seemed to regain all his former vigor at that instant, and stealthily drew his wand. He whispered, "I'm sorry, Severus. There really is no other way." As Severus swirled around to face him, Dumbledore cast his curse, "IMPERIO!"

Both boys' mouths dropped open in shock, and they stared at each other in horrified surprise. When they looked back at the tableau before them, Snape had went as stiff as if he'd been 'Petrified'. The terrified look on Snapes' face caused a momentary sense of pity from Harry, until Draco reached out towards Snape as if to help him. That hardened his heart right up again.

Severus managed to croak out, "No, Albus, for the love of Merlin, please do not ask this of me!"

Casting the curse had seriously drained Dumbledore, and he fell back against the pillows, his breath coming in harsh, raggedy wheezes. His rheumy eyes clouded with tears, but his voice was firm, "It will be all right, Severus. This is my will and my wish. Tonight as the moon rises over the astronomy tower, you will come to my chambers and cast the killing curse upon me. You are my chosen instrument of destruction and salvation."

With that said, Dumbledore wove a wandless magical spell, words and arcane symbols forming in the air in front of him like little serpents of flame dancing in the firelight. Dumbledore clapped his hands twice, and they obediently swam through the air and crawled inside Snapes' ears.

The room shifted and swirled around Harry and Draco like a vortex, and then they were suddenly back in Dumbledores' quarters. "Potter, I think I'm going to be sick," groaned Draco. "Me, too," Harry whispered back. "You know what's coming, right? Dumbledore is going to make us watch this . . .this nightmare!"

Draco sniffed, and said, "Suck it up, Potter. If we have to watch, there is a reason. Dumbledore always has a reason for everything he does."

Minerva McGonnagal and Poppy Pomfrey were spreading a rich, purple cloth onto the floor, and jointly they cast 'Unflambrio'. They then helped Albus to his feet from his ornate desk chair, and stood him in the center of the cloth. He leant heavily on Godrick Gryffindors' sword as if it were a walking stick.

"I promise I will make it up to you, Minerva," Dumbledore said in a tone of deepest regret. Minerva sort of half-smiled sadly, patted his arm, and gave him a gentle kiss on his withered cheek. Albus reached out and wiped the single tear from her cheek with his good hand. "Go now my love," he softly ordered. She turned, and quietly left without a backward glance.

"Stay, Poppy," he said as he turned toward her. He relinquished his wand to her with a flourish and a somehow still courtly bow. "Place my final memories into my Pensive. It will bear testimony in Severus' defense, if my plan fails. I would not have Severus Snape serve one single minute in Azkaban for doing what he was ordered to do while under the 'Imperious Curse'. This is on my own command. It is not Severus' fault."

He then turned his head, and appeared to be looking directly at the two boys. Harry had a distinct feeling of deja'vu, like that time in Hagrids' cottage when even though Ron and he had been covered by his invisibility cloak, Dumbledore had still seemed able to see them. Dumbledores' next words confirmed Harrys' suspicions.

"I wish to spare you from witnessing the actual deed, but as my murderer Severus will have Tom Riddles' complete and total trust. He should be able to go and come with impunity amongst the enemy, and may even be able to convince Tom to engage in battle at the time and place of OUR choice and not his. Besides, you will need Severus at the final battle, or all my careful planning will be for naught. You must protect and help Severus in any way you can, including, if necessary, to escape from Azkaban."

Dumbledore inclined his head, as if hearing something they could not, and continued, "Ah, right on time. Excellent! He's coming now, off you go."

The maelstrom whirled around them once more, and they were suddenly flung out of the Pensive landing hard and winded, flat on their backs.

Pomfrey cleared her throat and said, "As I was placing his final message into the Pensive, Severus came in and, . . . Well, you know the rest. As soon as the deed was done, Severus gave a kind of primal scream, and ran from the room."

Minerva and I found him hours later sitting catatonic in a corner in his sitting room. I tried every healing spell I could find, and nothing worked. I finally had to summon Hagrid," Pomfrey concluded.

Hagrid coughed, cleared his own throat, and said, "That's when I had to carry him to St. Mungo's to be healed."

Harry slowly turned his face towards Draco, sighed and said, "Alright. So how do we go about breaking Snape out of St. Mungo's?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, forehead crinkled in thought, oddly reminiscent of Hermiones' own mannerism. He sighed, "We'll need a Plan. Luckily for our side, the Mud-blood's here. She really is the smartest one of us, afterall. She'll have it all figured out by teatime, probably with enough time left over to write a three foot scroll on all the ramifications of said plan."

Harry was surprised at Dracos' attempt at humor, and there had been no hint of rancor in the hated 'mud-blood' slur, rather a needling jocularity. So he let it go, and simply nodded in agreement. After all, Draco was right.

When Harry and Draco re-entered Pomfreys' chambers, they discovered much had changed. It had been magically enlarged for one thing, the other was all her normal furnishings had been transfigured into cots and bunks and pallets. Everyone else was asleep, higgledy-piggledy here and there, but thoughtfully there were two empty cots between Ron and Neville.

Pomfrey said, "We can do no more tonight, gentlemen. Go ahead and try to get some sleep. I'll make a quick patrol, and rest myself. Goodnight." She left with a swish of her robes as both Harry and Draco tumbled exhaustedly into their respective beds.

Pomfrey power walked with enough swirl to impress even Snape, had he been there to bear witness, as she hurriedly exited the castle. She broke into a dead run long before she'd reached the edge of the Dark Forest, and soon she found herself at the ancient circle of standing stones.

Pomfrey dropped to her knees, drawing in great, painful gulps of air. Then she pulled herself up onto her feet, and spoke, "Queen Mab! Great Mother! I need You!"

The slim crescent of the waxing moons' rising light illuminated the largest central stone, and slowly a figure of what appeared to be a female pulled its' self out of the stone. There, in all her white shimmering glory stood Mab.

Poppy bowed in a low, reverent saalaam before addressing the Ancient One, "Mother, how am I to restart the Sisterhood if I am the last of the old Calling?"

Mabs' voice whispered like a rumble of distant thunder, "The means stands before you, my child. There has been called a new generation of Seven. If they are willing to make the sacred vows, to learn and pass on the old ways, to accept and pay my price. . . , I will open unto them the Bottomless Well of Power to draw on."

"Let it so Be," replied Poppy, as she bowed low again.

"Bring the acolytes tomorrow night at moon rise, and We shall see," Mabs' voice rumbled a last time, before she stepped back into her stone.

Poppy Pomfrey made her way slowly back toward the castle, and the relative quiet and privacy of her own bedroom. She was exhausted from her long day, not to mention the drama of the wee hours, and it was almost daylight already. It was still a long while before her worried mind eased enough for her to drift off into a troubled sleep.

End Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please remember that I am not J. K., and that this is my a/u. I will try to be as faithful to canon as possible, but if I happen to break canon, this is after all my a/u so please bear with me and see where the story goes. FYI; All our heroes and heroines are at least 17/18, and therefore of legal age in the Wizarding World. A word of caution; in later chapters, there will be allusions to torture, nudity, and things of explicit nature referred to, so I advise a rating of at least M on this story.

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Chapter Three: The Great Plan; or It's All Relative

The next morning the girls had all awoken first, and their sleeping arrangements were already transfigured back into the original forms.

While Harry and Draco'd been gone the previous evening, the remaining guys and girls had discovered they were all on at least nodding relationships with eachother.

A class here and there shared, friends with a mutual friend, the normal way any schoolmates recognized each other. It might not have made the girls bosom buddies, but it did make for a companionable and convivial trip down to breakfast in the Great Hall.

It was slightly different on the guys' side. There were five against one, the one being Draco Malfoy.

The guys were just beginning to wake, and the first order of their business seemed to be to eye Draco with varying degrees of suspicion and malice.

The tension was becoming decidedly uncomfortable, so Neville Longbottom decided to break the silence.

"Girls," he said with a stretch and a yawn. "I'll never understand them! Put more than one or two together at a time, and they gang up into packs like a pride of wild lions, ready to rip you to shreds!" He yawned again.

Harry and Ron looked at eachother, and burst out laughing remembering their own experiences with female packs when the Yule Ball had been announced.

Draco grinned wolfishly, and murmured, "Well, well Longbottom! You've just proven you're not a complete idiot after all. That's the most accurate way I've ever heard females described. But I've also discovered that if you put yourself out just a bit, the herd can be culled to your satisfaction."

At that, Fred and George both guffawed uproariously. Then in their simultaneous twin-speak they said, "Hear, hear for culling the herd to our satisfaction!" Both bounced out of bed on the opposite sides, in perfect mirror image of the other, and quickly donned their muggle-style jeans and homemade jumpers. As they done up their respective trainers, Ron abruptly sat up.

It had just dawned on him what they meant as they called over their shoulders, "Hurry up, or all the good ones will have gone!" He hollered to their retreating forms, "Hey! Paws off Luna! You guys know how I feel about her!"But the door had already shut off his shout.

Ron leapt up, and hurriedly jerked on his jeans and jumper. He left the room hopping on the one foot, as he was pulling on his second trainer. "Sorry, Harry! But, well . . . , you know how it is. Right?"

Harry gave him his best foster-brother grin, and said, "Go on Ron, or all the good ones will have gone." And with one last glare at Draco, Ron quit the room with a hearty bang of the door, and a dead-run down the stairs.

"What's the rush?" asked Neville, swinging his feet out of his cot. He proceeded to dress himself at a much more leisurely pace. With a wry shake of his head, he drew his wand and carefully worked the transfiguration charm to tidy up behind himself and the unruly Weasleys.

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry. "They don't mean anything by it. I'd have done it for them myself when I did mine. They're not like us. They're used to having a mum to tidy up behind them."

Neville nodded, and gave a shrug of his shoulders, "It's nothing. Gave me a chance to practice, is all." Then to change the subject, he asked Harry, "What is it that makes girls act like they do? For that matter, why do guys act the way we do?"

Harry groaned, and got up and began to get dressed himself. "I don't know, Neville. With Fred and George it's always 'sex and girls' and 'girls and sex'," he said. "That's all they ever talk about." He saw Draco out of the corner of his eye, and turned to look in his direction.

Draco froze in mid-scratch as he watched Harrys' gaze stray towards the itch he'd been ministering to. "I say Potter, I know I've teased you about it and all, but you're not a 'girlie man' are you? A buggerer? You know . . . , gay? I mean it's your private business and all, but it would explain why you've never shagged Granger before."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Harry with horror. "No, no, no! Of course I'm not gay, unless endless wet dreams about Cho means that I'm gay."

"Ah," said Draco. "I remember Cho. I'm impressed, Potter. You have good taste in women."

Neville paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. He cleared his throat and said, "If you're both done pissing in the wind, I'm leaving for breakfast before I get put off my appetite." With that he stepped into the hallway and slammed the door behind himself.

Draco turned to Harry and asked, "Reckon Longbottoms' gay?"

Harry just shrugged and shook his head.

There was only one table laid out with food and places, so placement was limited at breakfast. Harry slid into his usual place between Hermione and Ron, and was thankful for the steaming cup of coffee that appeared in place of the usual pumpkin juice.

Draco crossed to the opposite side of the table to take a seat between a darkly beautiful Slytherin girl, and a petite auburn haired beauty that Harry recognized as a Ravenclaw classmate of Lunas', Miranda Waverly. Draco felt a degree of comfort, and begun to fill his plate.

"WELL? Care to fill us in, Harry?" Hermione asked the question that everyone wanted the answer to.

Harry grimanced , his first sip of coffee turning bitter in his mouth. He carefully set down his cup, and indicated Draco with a wave of his hand. "It seems as if Draco's been on our side, spying for Dumbledore all along. I suppose we must trust him, but just the same, I'd watch my back around him for the time being. No offense intended, Malfoy."

"None taken, Potter," replied Draco as he popped a ripe, red strawberry into his mouth.

Harry continued with a roll of his eyes, "And we have to somehow or other free Snape from St. Mungo's, where the Ministry is holding him until he's fit for trial and sentencing. We also have to cure him, where all the medi-witch staff at St. Mungo's has been unable to do, and get him back into fighting trim. That's if the Deatheaters and Dementors don't get him or us before we can get him back here to Hogwarts." He looked around, then asked, "Any suggestions?"

Everyone was silent up and down both sides of the table, faces furrowed in concentration as Harry looked around. Fred, or was it George?, was drumming their fingers on the tabletop, lost in thought.

Harrys' searching gaze froze. Seated directly opposite himself sat a slender girl, with long, straight blue-black hair that reminded him slightly of Cho. That is she did until she lifted her alabaster face, and his green eyes met a pair of the deepest amethyst eyes he'd ever seen. He felt like he'd literally taken a bludger to his chest, so taken was he by her beauty.

One ink-dark eyebrow arched upwards quizzically, as she stared back at him. Harry just wanted to dive into her eyes and swim in them, if it'd been possible.

"Too bad Snape's not a minor," said Ron around the rasher of bacon he was chewing on. "If he was, a parent or guardian could get him into private care, if they could provide adequate security, with an order of Release from the Ministry."

The dark goddess spoke, "I'm related to Professor Snape, distantly. I believe our mothers were fourth or fifth cousins. Would that be close enough for me to sign him out?"

Malfoy had noticed Harrys' interest in the dark girl, so with a wicked smile he slid his arm possessively around her shoulders, and gave her a small squeeze. "Now, Elle," Draco purred, "you know fully well how the Wizarding World works. It's always been a patriarchal society, so . . . , no. I'm afraid maternal relationships won't suffice."

He continued, while examining his perfectly manicured nails, "However, Severus IS my godfather, and I AM still head of House Malfoy, . . . at least I am until Lucius finds and kills me." He looked Harry in the eyes and finished, "I believe that with 'proper' documentation, I could have myself appointed Severus' guardian and obtain his release into my custody."

Hermione had been listening intently, with genuine interest. A sneaky smile spread across her face, and she turned to Harry, grabbing his arm. "Merlin! Harry, it could work! The Dark Lord wouldn't even know you were involved, and that would buy us the time we need to fix Snape!"

Thirteen pairs of eyes turned to look at Pomfrey, fourteen pairs if you counted Hagrids', waiting expectantly for an adults advise. Her cheeks flamed with sudden embarrassment at being thrust into a position of authority, and she murmured, "Oh dear!"

After a few minutes had passed, she said, "Well, I'm no solicitor, but I believe the Ministry will require genealogical proof of nearest living male kin. And it will need to at least appear to be legally drawn up, and have Minister Fudges' signature and seal to actually obtain Severus' release."

"Okay then," Harry said, "Draco needs a family trees connecting him to Snape that looks nice and legal. 'Mione, would you?" Before he could finish, she was on her feet calling over her shoulder, "I'll be in the library."

Elle pushed Dracos' arm off and stood up, calling after Hermione, "Wait up, Hermione! History is one of my favorite subjects. I'll come help you."

"Harry, I've been really studying up on medicinal plants and herbs lately," Neville spoke up. "Perhaps if Madam Pomfrey were to make out a list of needed medicinals, I could search the grounds and the Dark Forest for them. I mean, if we DO get Snape back, he'll need healing, right?"

From the far end of the table, a soft voice piped up timidly, "I'm also very good at potions and medicinals. May I go with you?" It was Gillian, trying to fend off an irrepressible George.

Pomfrey rose and said, "Right then, you both come with me. We'll go and take an inventory of Snapes' private stores of ingredients and replenish whatever's missing."

With Hagrids' also leaving to tend his animals, the group at table was definitely thinning out.

Fred said, "You know who we could really use?" George exclaimed, "Tonks! If anyone could forge," Fred picked up the sentence, "That is could OBTAIN Fudges' signature and seal, she's our girl!"

"Done!" Harry exclaimed, 'accio'ing parchment, quill, and ink. He wrote out, 'You are needed. Two hours. Same place.', and sealed it with the blood red wax and seal of the Order of the Phoenix. He then summoned Hedwig and told her, "Take this to Nymphadora Tonks, and don't wait for a reply. Come straight back here, and have an owl treat in the owlery."

Hedwig rubbed her face affectionately against Harrys' hand when he handed her the message, and hooted her understanding of his orders. Then off she flew in the direction of London.

Fred said, "No offense, Harry, but not really feeling like books." George chimed in, "Or picking flowers." They continued in their 'twin-speak', "We'd really rather practice our curses and dueling skills."

"Ooh, yes! Duelling!" chorused the remaining females excitedly.

"Ron?" querried Harry.

Ron had finally finished eating, and was wiping his lips and fingers neatly on his napkin. "Can't see helping to spring the greasy git, might affect dads' job at the Ministry if it goes wonky and all."

Harry leant over and whispered into Rons' ear, "Really not wanting to leave Luna at the twins' mercy?"

"Got it right on the first try," Ron whispered back wink.

"Want to see how it's coming in the library, Potter? That is if you're finished making out with Weasel, of course," Draco insinuated snarkily with his usual smirk.

Harry froze, then smiled sweetly and batted his eyes coyly as he cooed back, "Of course, Draco. After you, my luv."

Draco felt a distinct re-visitation of his just eaten breakfast in the back of his throat. 'Buggerer might just KISS me if I provoke him!' he thought, as he stood up and led the way to the library without another word. Malfoys were all about self-preservation, after all.

It had turned out that Elle had beautiful penmanship, almost calligraphy-like, so she was the one carefully copying out the 'father of' and 'son of' onto a pristine, first-quality piece of parchment with purest India ink.

The two girls were getting along like a house on fire, as loved to read just for the joy of reading and doing research for the love of knowledge, not simply because it was an assignment. They had quickly found what was needed in 'Valensius' List of Venerables', which was the Wizarding Worlds' version of 'Debrits' List of the Peerage' in the Muggle world. By looking up Snapes' pure blood mothers' family, and the Malfoy family, they'd found more than enough intermingling in the outermost branches of both family trees. It made for a most convincing appearing document.

Elle lay down her quill, and sanded their creation generously, before gently blowing it clean. Hermione smiled her approval. This Slytherin might actually become a friend.

Harry and Draco walked into the library just as Hermione was returning the research book to its proper place.

"Here you are, Draco," Elle said as she passed him the parchment. Harry intercepted it, and scanned over it before handing to an indignant Draco.

A pair of silver-blue eyes carefully and critically perused the document. He smiled genuinely at both girls, truly impressed. "Very impressive, ladies," Draco said. Then a crafty grin pursed his lips, and he added, "You know if we live through this, there will be a lot of people wanting to 'edit' their lineage to be 'politically correct'. You two could make a fortune forging documents."

Hagrids' appearance at the library door was the only thing that saved Draco from a serious hexing by a miffed off Hermione. Hagrid said, "Ready to go, Harry? Draco? Poppy's given us a bottle of 'Compliance' potion to coax the professor with, so he'll come along nice and quiet-like with us."

"Let's go, Malfoy," Harry said decisively. "We'll use the floo network from Madam Pomfreys' chambers. It's almost time to meet up with Tonks anyway."

"Whoa, Potter," said Draco. "Doesn't it rather defeat the whole 'keeping the Dark Lord in the dark' thing if you go, too?"

"Not if they can't see me," Harry quipped back with a sly grin of his own.

End Chapter Three

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	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Please remember I'm not J. K., and don't own the rights to Harry Potter, or his wonderful world. This is an a/u, and in it I want to make sure Severus Snape gets a happy ending too. Please bear with me as I take you to my a/u, and forgive anything that is not canon.

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Chapter Four: The Great Escape; or I Love It When A Plan Comes Together

Harry and Draco stepped into the livingroom of 12 Grimwauld Place, followed by Hagrid, who had to bend low and squeeze through the mantelpiece to exit the floo-network.

"Hagrid, keep an eye on Malfoy," Harry said as he left to hurry upstairs to his bedroom to retrieve his invisibility cloak.

"Draco!" Hagrid exclaimed on a rising note, as Draco slowly drew out his wand.

"Relax, Hagrid," said Draco, turning the wand onto himself. "It pays to dress the part. That's one good thing Lucius taught me. If you look impressive, people are impressed," he finished as he spelled himself into a conservative dark blue set of business robes.

Just at that moment, the bright green flames of the floo-network flared again as Tonks stepped through, wand at the ready, shouting, "EXPELIARMUS!"

"What the bloody hell!" shouted Draco. "I'm on YOUR side!"

"Not sodding likely!" Tonks snarled back, her wandtip against a trembling Dracos' throat.

Harry calmly took in the scene before him with a guilty twinge of pleasure for a long moment upon coming back into the livingroom, then he sighed, "Tonks, let Malfoy go. It turns out that he's been on our side all along, according to Dumbledore.

Tonks slowly pulled her wand back, and put it away, as Harry continued, "Tonks, we need your skills. Dumbledores' last wish was for us, Draco and me, to free Snape and get him safely back to Hogwarts. Here's our plan so far." He proceeded to show her their document, and outline their plan.

"We can do this," she grinned sneakily. "I just need to pop 'round to my flat. Back in a trice!" she called over her shoulder, as she stepped into the fireplace and re-entered the floo-network.

"Bloody cow took my wand!" screetched Draco, with an indignant stamp of his left foot. "I was just dressing for the part, and the ruddy, bloody cow took my wand!"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy," Harry sniped back. "If you're pretending to be an adult, then ACT like one. She'll bring back your bleeding wand. She probally forgot she even had taken it."

With a 'Whoosh', Tonks stepped back through the fireplace, and said, "Sorry, Malfoy, no hard feelings, alright?" passing him back his wand.

Draco looked down at her hand. "That's not MY wand."

Tonks looked down, and blinked, "No, that's mine. Sorry again." She fished around in various pockets, while he steadily tapped his booted toe tip on the bare wooden floorboards. "Ah, here you go," as she finally came up with the right wand, which he quickly pocketed.

They all sat down, and Harry had Dobby fetch them a cuppa. Tonks pulled quill and inkpot, and a truly impressive looking embossier from her various pockets.

"Pass me your document, Harry," she said. She waved her wand over the quill and commanded it to 'Write!' Tonks then began to dictate, "By order of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," and the quill dipped its ownself into the inkpot and began to write in Fudges' own handwriting. "I hereby release into the custody of his cousin, Draco Malfoy, Head of House Malfoy, Professor Severus Snape,, to be placed into private, protective custody until such time as he is recovered mentally to be able to stand trial before the Ministry of Justice." She paused in her dictation to explain, "I nicked one of Fudges' used quills and embossiers after I came across a nifty little spell that causes the quill to 'remember' its' owners handwriting. Never can tell when something like that will come in handy."

Then she commanded the quill, "Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic." The quill promptly signed and finished with a flourish, before laying itself down. Tonks then picked up the embossier and stamped the official Ministry seal onto their scroll right beside the signature. She passed the finished document back to Harry, and secreted her paraphernalia back into her various pockets on her robes. Then she left as quickly as she had come.

"Thanks!" called Harry. He then passed the document back to Draco, who was accustomed to proof-reading some of his fathers' Ministry paperwork.

Draco said with admiration, "Potter, this looks quite good! We may be able to actually pull this off without having to 'Obliviate' half of St. Mungo's. All right, here's our plan."

A full fifteen minutes later, after much heated argument and debate, the two boys shook hands in an uneasy alliance, finally sure of the plan. Hagrid, Draco, and Harry (who was wrapped in his invisibility cloak) exited the backdoor of Harrys' house, stepping into the back garden, which was Dobbys' pride and joy. It was also a safe apparate-point, which they used to get to St. Mungo's.

Harry poked his wandtip into Dracos' ribs, and whispered, "Just because you can't see me doesn't mean my wand won't work, Malfoy, so no tricks."

Hagrid slipped the bottle of 'Compliance' potion to Harry, as he said, "They might search us before taking us down onto the mental wards. It's better if you hold on to this, Harry."

As they approached the lobby doorway, Draco went into full-blown 'Malfoy' mode, straightening his spine, along with his collar and cuffs. Standing with perfect posture, his nose superciliously tilted upwards, he snapped his fingers and ordered roughly, "Hagrid, the door!"

"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy, sir!" Hagrid loudly answered, with a respectful bob of his head, but under his breath he whispered, "Now don't you go getting provoked, Harry. I don't mind pretending to be a servant. Draco has to appear in charge, and it's for a good cause."

On that comment, what appeared to be young Mr. Malfoy, and his huge manservant, entered into St. Mungo's and went straightaway to Director Harbison Fingars' office. Hagrid opened the outer office door, and stood aside for Draco.

"Draco Malfoy, to see Director Fingar. I'm sorry I don't have an appointment, but it is quite urgent," he sniffed, and looked around with all the superiority of Lucius himself.

"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy," the chubby receptionist blushed, and smiled coyly at Draco. "I'll just pop in and see if he can see you for a moment." She slipped through the inner office door. A moment later she stepped back out to her desk, and grinned cheekily as she said, "Director Fingar will see you now."

With an answering wolfish grin, Draco entered the Directors office. "Draco Malfoy, Mr. Director," he said extending his hand.

Harbison Fingar did not appear to be as easily impressed as his receptionist. "Mr. Malfoy," he intoned as he shook Dracos' proffered hand, motioning him to take a seat. "State your business, please. I have a hospital to run."

Draco produced their carefully crafted document, and Director Fingar put on his horn-rimmed reading spectacles and perused the document for several long minutes. He gently ran his fingertips over the seal, to be sure it was genuine, then nodded his head.

"If you will come with me, Mr. Malfoy, we'll collect your cousin. Will it be agreeable to have all his records owled to you, or would you rather wait for them now?" Fingar asked.

"By owl will be fine, sir," Draco said respectfully, but he was thinking 'What a wanker!'

Hagrid hurriedly opened the door at Dracos' fingersnap. They exited Fingars' office, and walked down several corridors and staircases, turning left, right, left, left, so many times that Harry finally thought, ' Merlin! This place is worse than the Tri-Wizard maze!' as he hurried to keep up.

They finally came to a halt outside a dark, wooden door that resembled a vault door at Gringott's. Fingar drew his wand, and removed the various wards and charms that kept the door secure.

The door creaked as it swung open. There in the darkest far corner sat a filthy, straightjacketed Severus Snape, his black eyes glittering madly.

The stench emanating from the cell caused Draco to back-pedal into the hallway, a scented handkerchief pressed over his nose and mouth. He motioned imperiously towards the giant, and said, "You'd best handle him, Hagrid." Then he turned his furious gaze upon the Director.

"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy," Hagrid responded, and he entered the foul chamber. "Professor Snape? We've come to take you home, sir," he said rather loudly. Under his breath he said, "The potion, Harry. Quickly!"

Harry slipped the bottle into Hagrids' hand with a smooth, unseen motion, and Hagrid swiftly tipped it into Snapes' mouth. It was duly swallowed, and the empty bottle returned to Harrys' unseen hand, as Snape closed his eyes.

Hagrid tried again, "Professor Snape, you know me don't you sir?" Snape slowly opened his eyes, and stared blankly at Hagrids' kind face. He nodded a small nod. Hagrid said soothingly, "Come Professor, we've come to take you home." Snape nodded again, and stood up with Hagrids' help.

Dracos' steely blue eyes were blazing with fury. "THIS is the care St. Mungo's provides its' inmates? I see I should have been here long before now to remove my cousin. Leaving him in his own filth! You shall be hearing from my solicitors!" Draco ground to a halt, overcome with a righteous indignation on Severus' behalf.

Director Fingar himself was appalled at Snapes' condition, and quickly cleaned him up as best as he could with a 'scourgify' spell. "My sincerest apologies to both your cousin and yourself, Mr. Malfoy. You have my personal assurance that a complete inquiry will be held on this case of neglect, and the guilty person or persons will be punished."

They had been steadily moving towards the main door, and fresh air, the whole time Fingar had been rattling on. Draco strode angrily across the lobby and out the door, followed closely by Hagrid supporting an obviously weakened Snape.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Harry, rubbing at his scar. "We've got to hurry. Danger is coming."

They looked up into what had been a perfectly clear bright blue sky, to see swirling dark grey clouds rolling across the horizon in a most un-natural manner. That's when they saw the Dementors swooping in and out of the thickening clouds, coming nearer and nearer to St. Mungo's.

They bundled Snape as rapidly as they could to the nearest ward-free point, and immediately apparated back to Harrys' garden. They wasted no time, but rushed inside and instantly floo'd back to Hogwarts, mission accomplished.

While everyone else had been occupied with the Great Escape, the Weasley trio had led the remaining four girls to the Room of Requirement to practice dueling. Once they were inside, the door magically disappeared.

Fred and George began in their unique 'twin-speak', "We've been thinking about it for quite sometime now, and come to the conclusion that we've got to 'fight fire with fire' when it comes down to the final battle." One twin stopped speaking as the other took up the thought, "The enemy is not playing by the rules anymore. You can bet they will be casting 'Unforgivables' at you. The Ministry says we can't use them." The first twin resumed, "It's against 'the Rules'. I say we'd better be prepared to cast them back ourselves. It's self-preservation. And it's WAR!" The other twin finished up, "And all is fair in love and war."

Erika Bonham, the golden blonde Slytherin, stared into Freds' eyes with her own aquamarine ones, and Fred was lost. With a wink over his shoulder to George, he walked over to ask her to be his dueling partner.

Ron moved next to Luna, who was smiling the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. Yeah, she was slightly daft, so what? He loved her melodic sing-song way of speaking, and the gentle way she had about her. In fact, in his eyes she was perfect, he just didn't know why. It made his head hurt to try and figure it out, so he'd just decided to not even try. He'd just roll with his gut feelings, thank you. Maybe, with any luck, he'd eventually screw up the courage to try for the snogging session he fantasized about with increasing frequency.

George looked from a pocket-Venus of an auburn Ravenclaw, Miranda Waverly, to a fellow Gryffindor with spikey tufts of silver hair and the most amazing willow green eyes framed by jet-black eyelashes, Amanda Godwyn. 'The eyes have it,' he thought.

He ambled over with a, "Hi ya, Mandy! Glad to see that your hair's growing back. Did you really breakup with Seamus? I mean, I'm on your side and all. It had to be a real pisser having your hair blown off by your boyfriend, after all."

"Great opening line, George," laughed Mandy.

George was shocked. "How'd you know I wasn't Fred?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't think I'll tell you. But I've always known which of you was which . . . , even when you pretend to be the other," she said mysteriously.

Miranda volunteered to be the monitor of the duels, as she was partnerless. This suited her just fine, she was stalking bigger game anyway, so she could bide her time.

Much later after all three couples had dueled several times apiece, a table appeared set for luncheon. They realized the room was right, they HAD worked up an appetite.

Over lunch, the subject returned to learning to cast the 'Unforgivables'. Luna was adamant about it being wrong to torture and kill innocent things 'just to learn things we're not supposed to do anyway'.

"So how are we supposed to learn them properly then?," Erika asked snarkily. Being the only Slytherin present, she felt the need to 'represent'.

Fred was fastly becoming enamored of this girl, and her wicked sense of humour, not to mention those glorious eyes! They were the color of the Caribbean Sea that you find in all those travel guides. Merlin! He'd dive into them, and swim in them if he only could.

They all appeared to be deep in thought, pondering their conundrum. Ron suddenly broke the silence. "Well, I once saw MadEye Moody, well it wasn't really Moody. Turned out to be Barty Crouch, Junior, after all, polyjuiced into Moody," he rambled on.

"Get to the point sometime today, Ronald," Fred urged.

Ron cleared his throat, as his face flamed as red as his hair, and he summed up, "Well, the point is he demonstrated all three 'Unforgivables' on a wicked looking spider."

Everyone looked around the room, smiling and nodding in agreement. All except Luna, who said, "All spiders are not evil! Some even make webs that are very useful in potions. Try again."

Ron shuddered, and said, "I know where there are thousands of great, hairy, man-eating spiders. Bloody buggers tried to EAT Harry and me in our second year. It's only a matter of time before first-years start going missing if Hogwarts ever re-opens, that is."

Luna thought for several long moments, with her index finger tapping gently against her bottom lip, "Alright, but we'll not hunt them into extinction," she finally said on a mournful note.

Fred and George looked at each other, and exclaimed, "Wicked!"

End Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am not J. K. Rowling, as you can probably tell, and have no rights to any characters she has created. I hope, however, to attempt to do justice to her world in the telling of my little story. Several of her characters seem to have been given a 'raw deal', and I've always wanted to make amends to them. (Too many fairytales read as a child, I reckon) Are happily-ever-afters forbidden to the darker characters, even when they've strove to redeem themselves? I'm rambling on, so please let me pick up on where we are. Voldemort has started a murder rampage, blowing open Azkaban, and attacking the Ministry. The Deatheaters are rounding up anyone the Dark Lord thinks might be able to work the Old Magicks for him, and if they refuse they are killed. Minerva McGonagall, who had gone to the Ministry about re-opening Hogwarts, which had been closed after Dumbledores' death, is missing and feared dead. Severus Snape is catatonic, his mind wrapped in lunacy. Now our only hope of victory is in the hands of a madman. Can we fix him in time? Well, that brings us up-to-date, so let's go.

Chapter Five: Restarting the Sisterhood; or The Sisterhood Without Traveling Pants

As Pomfrey and Hagrid led Snape to his dungeon chambers, Harry and Draco went searching for the girls. They found Hermione and Elle still in the library, pouring over several advanced potion grimmoires.

"Hi, Harry. We think we have a solution for Snapes' condition," said Hermione. "Pomfrey thinks that the Professor may have cast 'Obliviate' on himself, if he suddenly snapped with Dumbledores' death."

"Just great!" exclaimed Draco, with a pout. "I go through all this trouble, and Snape's about as useful as Guilderoy Lockhart!"

"It's not as bad as THAT," Elle spoke up. "We do have a record, of sorts, of all his memories and life experiences stored in his Pensive. The essence of what makes Snape. . Snape is all there inside him, it's just his memories that are missing."

Harry had been listening to the melodic contralto voice of his dark goddess in starry-eyed fascination. He sighed, and looked in Hermiones' direction.

Hermione took over, "We've just got to put his memories from the Pensive back into his brain. If we're successful, we'll have the very same Snape back."

"And if it doesn't work, what then?" asked Harry.

"Then he'll probably need private nursing care for the rest of his days, and we've lost whatever weapon Dumbledore tried to make him become," Hermione finished sadly.

The four of them sat in silence, each wondering what part they themselves would have to play in the final battle.

Neville and Gillian came in to join them, each carrying a basket of roots and herbs they'd gathered for use as potion ingredients.

"Madam Pomfrey said for us to gather in the Great Hall for supper, and a conference, Harry," Neville said. "I've got to fetch the others. See you in a few," and he left out.

Gillian spoke up in her soft voice, "The castle must be ready for us to stay awhile. It's arranged us into segregated dormitories. The guys all seem to be housed in Gryffindor Tower."

"No sodding, bleeding way!" interjected Draco on a shrill note.

Gillian continued as if he'd not even spoken, "And we girls all seem to be housed in Slytherin."

"How disgusting!" Hermione said, then in an aside to her new friend, Elle, "No offense intended, of course."

"None taken," Elle grinned back at her. "You'll like Slytherin, once you get used to it." She leant over to whisper into Hermiones' ear, "There's a secret library filled with forbidden grimmoires and books on all types of subject matter behind the common room fireplace."

And so they made their way down to the Great Hall to join the rest of their team, for a nosh and to see what Pomfrey had in store.

After they'd all taken their seats, Pomfrey said, "Harry, Draco, please tell us about what you saw."

Harry sighed, rubbing at his scar as he sometimes did when he thought about Voldemort, and said, "Well, we know the Dementors are definitely on the Dark Lords' side. They were about to attack St. Mungo's just as we were leaving. If we'd arrived there ten minutes later than we did, we wouldn't have made it out."

Draco added, still thinking like a Malfoy, "Right now we're dancing only one or two steps ahead of the Dark Lords' forces. We need something special, something unexpected, or sooner or later they're going to catch up to us. If that happens, I'm not positive that the natural magic protection Hogwarts provides will be enough to save us."

"So what do we do? Sit around waiting to have our souls sucked out by Dementors, or lie back and wait to be raped and murdered by Deatheaters?" snarked Miranda Waverly, the petite auburn-haired Ravenclaw that Draco'd sat beside at breakfast that morning.

Draco's interest was caught. No hysterics, no tears, no fears, just plain, straightforward statements. Even jokingly sardonic. 'Impressive,' he thought, and as he took in her attributes, his mind added, ' and definitely shaggable.'

They all started chattering back and forth, until some of the voices began to rise on a note approaching panic.

"SILENCE!" shouted Pomfrey. "None of you have the luxury of childhood anymore! All of you are of legal age, and that makes you adults in the Wizarding World. We will therefore now act like adults, please."

She continued in a more calm tone, "Gentlemen, you will be the Warriors, the Focus of our power. Ladies, you will kindly go to your rooms to bathe and put on clean robes, after which you will meet me at the Dark Walk that leads into the Forbidden Forest. We will go to meet a friend who may choose to grant us unlimited power, although it will come at a price."

Pomfrey nodded in approval of everyones' focused attention. She continued, "Gentlemen, while we are enlisting special help, the six of you should be researching protective spells, wards, charms, ANYTHING to increase the natural protection afforded by Hogwarts its self. Check everywhere you can think to look. Harry, you and Draco might check Severus' private library. He must know quite a bit about protection and concealment to have successfully double-dealt You- Know-Who for all these years."

Pomfrey added as she rose to her feet, "We will meet back here at moonset, to check our findings," and then she left for her own chambers to prepare.

The girls might have wondered why the castle had decided to house them in Slytherin, but didn't voice it, but just accepted it was so.

As Hermione had new-born friendships begun with Elle, and the others, she was only upset for a few minutes that she wasn't in her comfortable, familiar Gryffindor room.

The castle had apparently decided the girls would be needing pampering, as it appeared each girl had her own private suite of rooms. The bedrooms were definitely posh, with linens of the first quality and a petite fireplace to take off the chill of the great stone castle. It also had a private bathroom attached, though not huge, certainly functional and stocked with all necessary toiletries.

Each of the seven girls claimed a room for herself, and quickly took a bath, putting on the only article of clothing she could find afterwards. They one-by-one stepped back into the common room, to find each other clothed in identical, simple white robes.

"We look like Druid priestesses," quipped Hermione, with a laugh. She stared around at six guilty-looking faces, and added, "What?! I was only joking!"

Gillian extended her right hand, palm up, and said, "Hermione, did you never wonder where Lily Potter learned the Olde Magicks that she used to save Harry all those years ago? The only magic that has ever come close to defeating You-Know-Who?"

Amanda Blake, her fellow Gryffindor, spoke up, "She learnt it here, at Hogwarts, illegally, her seventh year. As did all our mothers, except yours, you being a Muggle-born and all. No offense intended, 'Mione."

Elle said, "It's time to make our vows to Queen Mab, to make the Pledge, and draw Her power to our side. Now that the blood of our Champion flows through the veins of our enemy, without the Olde Magicks, the Dark Lord may triumph."

Hermione laughed out loud her disbelief, and said, "Mab's just a legend, a fairytale, right?"

Luna somberly shook her head from side to side, and said, "Don't think like a Muggle, Hermione. We live in a magical world. Are unicorns real? Can you fly on a broomstick, or wave a stick of wood and cause things to happen? Where do you think your powers, all magic really, comes from?" She ended on a sigh, and skipped towards the door.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, as she suddenly realized it had been hanging open. Out loud she said, "Then we need to hurry. It won't do to make a Legend wait."

Draco and Harry were sniping back and forth at each other all the way down to the Old Bat's lair in the dungeons. Draco was still all put out to be housed in Gryffindor Tower, and doing a damn fine job of making his displeasure well-known.

Harry'd finally had enough, and said, "I know we're supposed to be on the same side, Draco, but if you don't shut up, I might just forget, and hex boils the size of goose eggs on your balls."

The expression on Harrys' face made Draco actually shut up. He valued his balls, after all, more than getting over on Scar-head. They'd reached Snapes' chamber door anyway, so he reached out and knocked softly on it, instead making another retort.

Hagrid opened the door in response to the knock, and Harry explained quietly what they were there for. They entered, after making Hagrid a solemn promise to behave themselves, and to read quietly. Hagrid led them into the bedchamber, and over to the corner where a tapestry of a druid scene of figures inside a standing stone circle, dancing around a bonfire in the center. He lifted one corner of the tapestry, to reveal a small alcove containing floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were overflowing, two comfortable leather armchairs, and standing between the chairs was Snapes' Pensive.

As soon as Hagrid had dropped the tapestry back in place, plunging them into darkness, candles automatically lit themselves, shedding plenty of reading light.

"Good gods!" murmured Draco, staring at all books, surrounding them like the twelve labors of Hercules.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, in total agreement concerning the task at hand. "Where's Hermione when you need her. She'd be in heaven in here," he added, as he began to read the titles on the spines of the books nearest him. He looked at Draco, and said, "Why don't you start on that side, I'll start on this side, and we'll meet up in the middle."

"Fine by me," answered Draco, as he moved to the opposite wall and pulled down a book.

First one hour, then two, and three slowly ticked by, only punctuated by the whisper of pages being turned, and books being pulled down and put back. Finally Draco spoke, "Hey Scar-head, check this out!" jabbing his finger emphatically onto the page he was currently searching.

Harry came over to where Draco was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and read, "The Mirage of Atlantis." He looked at Draco in disbelief for a moment, and then considering just whose private library this was, he became serious,

Harry softly read aloud, "Presents a mirage of devastation to any who seek its' location. This concealment charm also prevents anyone from being able to find the location without a bound invitation. Requires extreme concentration and extraordinary power."

Harry grinned widely, and he exclaimed, "Draco, this is great! Let's go tell the others."

Draco paused for a moment, as he caught sight of a rather interesting title on a high shelf. He reached up and pulled the slim volume down. "Sex Magick," Draco showed the title to Harry, who just shook his head. "What, Potter? I'm stuck in bloody goody-two-shoes Gryffindor, with the lot of you guys. It's just a little light reading so I don't get bored." He slipped the slim tome into his pocket.

The two of them slipped out from behind the tapestry. Harry showed the grimmoire to Hagrid and said, "I think we've found it, Hagrid. Rather, Draco found it, but I think it'll work."

Hagrid was busy sponging sweat off Snapes' flushed, restless face. "Well now, that's fine then. Off you boys go then, so's not to wake the Professor," he whispered, inclining his head toward the door to motion them out.

Draco stared down at Snape worriedly for a moment, then did something Harry would never have imagined in a million years. He looked at Hagrid, and said seriously, "Thanks, Hagrid, for taking care of Severus. I stand in your debt." Hagrid nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

Harry led the way, letting Draco precede him out of Snapes' door, which he shut very gently.

Pomfrey was waiting for the girls at the verge of the Dark Walk, dressed very similarly to the girls. The sun had just completely set, and the first stars of night were beginning to peek out of the lavender and salmon hued sky.

Ladies, follow me," Pomfrey said, stepping onto the path leading into the Forbidden Forest, and setting a brisk pace.

The girls were murmuring amongst themselves as they all followed behind Pomfrey. Hermione thought she heard the terms 'Mab', 'rites', and 'sky-clad' mixed into their conversation, but couldn't be sure. Needless to say, she was quiet intrigued as she hurried along.

Suddenly the path which had steadily become more difficult to see, opened up onto a beautiful green meadow, with a circle of seven giant standing stones in the center of it. As they approached the stone circle, Pomfrey stopped and turned to address them.

"From this moment on, you may call me Poppy. I will be your priestess-guide, if you accept entrance into the service of Mab. As such I must tell you that Power comes with a price, and if you are all willing to pay it, we may be victorious."

All seven of the girls somberly nodded their agreement, and so Poppy continued, "Good! You must now disrobe before entering the sacred circle of Life. Naked were you born to your fleshly mothers, naked must you be born to your Spirit Mother, Mab."

Poppy discarded her own robe with a single graceful movement, and all the girls were most impressed. She must have been at least as old as Snape, but she had the trim, toned body of a twenty-something.

One by one seven other robes fell onto the sweet smelling grass. They should have been cold with the temperature drop of nightfall, but somehow this enchanted meadow held all the warmth of a balmy summers' evening.

A bonfire roared to life in the center of the stone circle as soon as Poppy entered the sacred space. She bowed low to the four cardinal points, and then knelt before the tallest stone. At that same moment, the light of the crescent moon illuminated the stone, and Queen Mab in all her glory stepped out of it.

Mab circled around Poppy in a fluid, dance-like motion. The girls all glided into the circle in a synchronized movement, and began to dance with Her. Without knowing the steps, they danced to a music coming up through the soles of their bare feet. There seemed to be a beat of ancient drums echoing inside their ears, a sharp jingling of bells or bracelets, a twang of some kind of stringed instrument, and the trill of flute or pipes on the gentle breeze.

It may have been only minutes, or it could have been hours, and still they danced well on their way to their first sacred trance. The crescent moon had finally reached its' zenith over the circle of stones, and Mab halted their dance with one sharp wave of her hand.

Mab spoke in her raspy whisper of thunder, "The blood knows and calls to the blood. It calls to its' own across space and time. For this moment, for this destiny, you each were made, born to be the other half . . ., the missing half of the Seven Warriors of Order. Do you accept your destinies? Will you pay the Price? Will you enter of your own freewill, with the knowledge that your heart will be forever bound to your other Half . . ., even if the other denies you? The Price is your Unconditional Love, eternally."

Poppy held up a silver dagger engraved with intricate Celtic whurls. In one quick motion, she sliced a neat slash across her palm and dripped some of her blood into the bonfire as blood sacrifice. A strip of clean white linen appeared in her other hand, with which she bound up the injured hand.

"Blood of the Sisterhood," Poppy intoned, "do you openly and freely give yourself into the service of Mab, becoming a priestess of Order? If so, step forward as you are called."

Mab spoke again, "Elspeth, daughter of Olivia, come forward." Elle stepped up, took the dagger and unflinchingly sliced her palm, offering her blood sacrifice to the bonfire and swore, "I give myself freely into the service of Mab. I am a priestess of Order."

The calling and vows continued, "Erika, daughter of Ursula," "Miranda, daughter of Chloe," "Gillian, daughter of Hannah," " Amanda, daughter of Margrethe," " Luna, daughter of Diana," then in the space between one heartbeat and the next, Mab suddenly appeared in front of Hermione.

"Human, I smell a blood-bind of the Chosen One upon you," Mab spoke directly to Hermione, as she sniffed her.

Hermione spoke in an awed whisper, "Once five years ago, Harry and I realized we were the brother and sister the other had never had. We pricked our fingers, and swore a blood-brother oath, mixing our blood."

Mabs' eyes shimmered in humor, and she was instantly back beside Poppy. She smiled as she called, "Hermione, daughter of Lily."

Tears rolled down Hermiones' cheeks, as suddenly all of Harrys' grieving, pain, and loneliness flooded her mind and heart. She stepped forward, and proudly slit her palm, only flinching the tiniest bit, as Harrys' bravery bolstered her up.

She made her vow in a clear, strong voice, "I, Hermione, sister of Harry, child of Lily, give myself to the service of Mab. I am a priestess of Order."

A glowing began in each girl, like they were lit with an internal 'Lumos'. The earth rolled beneath their feet like a shaken bedsheet. Hermione gasped, and turned to Elle to ask, "What is THAT?"

Elle grinned at her, patted her arm, and answered, "That's power, sister dear. That's POWER!"

When everyone was finally assembled in the Great Hall, it was getting late. The moon had already set in the night sky transfiguration overhead.

The guys all stared at the girls' new attire and their bare, grass-stained feet. Elle, Hermione, and Gillian all plopped down on the nearest sofa. It seemed the guys finished their task early, and had thoughtfully transfigured the Great Room into a huge common room.

Draco was stretched out, greedily taking the whole of another very comfortable-looking sofa. Miranda tossed her deep auburn curls, and pointedly crossed the room, emerald eyes boring into silvery-blue ones. Dracos' mouth went dry, and he suddenly felt his heart thumping in the back of his throat instead of its normal position. Feet immediately hit the floor as he jumped up, and he bowed over her hand with courtly elegance before offering her a seat on the sofa.

Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry, "Must be a book somewhere, you know 'Manners for Malfoys' or somesuch."

Harry grinned back at Ron, his worry slipping away from his mind, which was what Ron had intended all along.

Erika, the other Slytherin girl, took a seat on Mirandas' other side. The three of them made a truly spectacular picture, with Mirandas' emerald green eyes and dark red hair being framed by two equally beautiful blue-eyed blondes. Fred strolled over to perch on the sofa arm beside Erika, and asked, "Mind if I join you?" He stretched his left arm along the back of the sofa, letting his hand curl around her shoulder.

She lifted her nose with the famous Slytherin sniff, but grinned up at him with a wicked sideways glance. Fred grinned back, and swooped in for a stolen peck on her ruby lips. She, of course, slapped his face. But it wasn't a really hard slap, and her fingertips DID lightly skim the tingling spot as she withdrew her hand. So the only thing Fred did was to arch an eyebrow and blow her a kiss.

"Get a room you two," groused Neville, with a roll of his eyes.

"Two by two we are paired, two by two," said Luna in her sweet sing-song voice, as she stopped in front of Ron, and stared deeply into his eyes with a somber face. She suddenly smiled, and dropped into his lap. Ron wrapped his strong arms around his 'Loonie', and snuggled her close against his chest.

Harry stood up, realizing three was a crowd. Besides, if Fred Weasley could court a Slytherin . . . , he walked over to where Hermione sat with the only female friends she'd ever made with the exception of Ginny. "How'd it go, 'Mione? Are you alright?" Harry asked her softly, glancing over his shoulder at Ron and Luna.

Hermione smiled at Harry, and said, "Yeah, it's fine, Harry. I'm happy for him. . . , for them," she amended. Harry looked a bit puzzled, so she took a deep breath and in her usual manner of over-explanation said. "You know how you and I consider ourselves to be brother and sister?"

At Harrys' slow nod, she continued, "Yeah, I did have a crush on Ron 'way back when', but last year we tried 'going together' briefly. I was on the rebound from Viktor, you know, after his pure-blood parents discovered I was Muggle-born. They had him married to a distant cousin before he could even send me an owl to tell me what was happening!"

She closed her eyes, and smiled a small, weak smile before she resumed, "Well, it started off with Ron trying to comfort me, which in turn led to a snogging session," she blushed crimson and cleared her throat. " Towards the end, it turned really weird. It felt like I was making out with a brother. Ron said it felt the same for him. We agreed then that our love for each other was the same as mine for you. As a matter of fact, I've even chatted Luna up in Rons' behalf." She immediately covered her mouth with both hands, as she pinked up again.

Elle had been listening, and looked at Hermione with a smile of approval as she said, "Most impressive manipulation, 'Mione! You would have done well in Slytherin."

Harry threw back his head in peals of genuine laughter. Elle turned to watch Harrys' amusement, and amethyst eyes locked onto green eyes. For both of them, time stood still, as hormones and pheromones surged through them. They were primordial god and goddess, there was no reality except for them, then just as quickly it was gone leaving them both dazed and definitely confused.

Harry collapsed onto a brocade ottoman beside Elle. He swallowed hard, and wiped adrenaline damp palms onto the fabric covering his thighs. Elles' eyes followed the unwittingly sensuous gesture, and drifted upwards on his anatomy. Her eyes dilated and she drew in a sharp inhalation of breath as she thought, ' Sweet Merlin! No wonder Draco's always been jealous of him!' A calculating look took hold on her features, replaced instantly by a MonaLisa smile when the unknowing Harry looked back up at her.

Miranda nudged Draco in his ribs, and he followed her line of sight towards the sofa opposite them, and the scene being played out. She raised her slim, fine-boned hand and stroked Dracos' finely stubbelled chin, as she leant in to whisper up to him, "Potter's lost. Slytherin wins the set and match."

Draco smiled a genuine smile at the implied snicker in her voice, and looked into the most wonderful emerald eyes. He said silkily, "Slytherins are alright, but all the males in my family for three generations have preferred Ravenclaws. Why break tradition?"

"Watch out, Malfoy," said Erika from Mirandas' other side. "Her mother was the European dueling champion four years in a row. Miranda's been dueling since she was nine years old. She's wicked fast with her wand, and I'd hate to see you lose your ' bits and baubles', " she added snarkily in a perfect imitation of Snape, complete with scowl.

"Marry me?" said Fred looking adoringly at Erika. She just snorted, and punched his arm.

Neville had drifted over to Gillians' side, to lean against the side of that sofa, and it seemed like George and Amanda were joined at the hip in an over-sized arm chair in the corner.

Poppy was watching as the magick paired up Priestess to Warrior. She looked around the room again, and counted. With a look of dismay, she stared at Hermione.

Hermione herself was watching the pairings. Not exactly what SHE would have chosen, but the magick went to join its other half, regardless of whose body housed it. She looked around again, slow dawning horror scrawled across her face. Like in musical chairs, she was odd priestess out. "Sweet Merlin," she whispered out loud to herself. "I'm mated to SNAPE!"

End Chapter Five


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: As always, I am NOT J. K. and do not own any rights to her wonderful world! My AU picks up somewhere between HBP & DH, but it IS an AU so it doesn't strictly follow canon. Well, let's get to it, shall we?

Chapter Six: Fixing Snape; or, Walk A Mile In My Shoes

Poppy cleared her throat, then addressed the assembled young people, "We now have a most powerful ally. Queen Mab has opened the well of Olde Magicks to us, through the girls."

Five of the males wore polite, if blank expressions, at this tremendous bombshell, much to Poppys' frustration.

Neville, however was the exception, as he smiled in relief. His Gran'd been telling him stories about Mab ever since he'd been a lonely toddler wishing for bedtime stories. Sometimes, as a very young boy, he'd poured out lonely, silent tears into his pillow, after visiting his mum and dad. Missing the comfort of his mums' arms, he'd fantasized about Mab wrapping motherly arms around him and rocking him to sleep. He trusted Mab, and having secretly studied about the true history of Queen Mab for the past six years, he had a pretty good idea of just how MUCH power they now had on their side.

Poppy blew her frustration out with a long exhalation, then more calmly asked, "Well, Harry, how did your research go?"

Harry looked around the room, and began to explain, "I think we've got a solution. Draco's the one who really found it, the Atlantean Charm."

"Ooh, Atlantis! Way beneath the ocean, the city in the sea," sang Luna, with a beautiful smile. Ron hugged her tightly, gave her a soft, quick peck on her cheek, and shushed her politely.

Harry inclined his head towards Ron and Luna, then continued, "We've discovered that Atlantis was a real place. The very first recorded location of a Wizarding World. But the muggles who shared their island were still very war-like and primitive. They practiced human sacrifice and the like."

"So the Atlanteans worked together to come up with a charm to separate and hide their world. The volcano on their island was about to erupt anyway, so they sent the best, most intelligent muggles to the four corners-- north, south, east, and west—in magical boats."

"They then cast the Ultimate Unplottable, which protected them from the eruption and hid their island forever." Harry finished with, "I just don't know if I've got the power to cast their Unplottable Charm. According to their legend, it took twenty-one wizards to do what they did. And I'm just one, just Harry," he sighed defeatedly.

"You can draw all the power you need from us," said Elle, his dark goddess, leaning forward to rest a gentle hand on Harrys' shoulder. A shock of electricity raced through her fingertips, and she drew back as Harry looked into her eyes. 'Circe, ' she thought. 'He really IS handsome!'

"Harry!" shrieked Neville, pointing up at the charmed ceiling. "Harry, look! The Dementors are coming!"

Everyone stared up at the charmed nightsky ceiling in fear and horror, as Harry leapt to his feet wand at the ready, the Dementors swirling above.

Hermione knew what was coming, and her heart pounded in her chest with fear for the boy-who-was-now-her-brother. One hand flew up to cover her mouth and hold back the scream she so desperately wanted to let out.

Seeing Hermiones' reaction, Gillian put both hands over her eyes, and cowered in her corner trying fervently to press herself through the sofa back and disappear altogether.

Elles' reaction was entirely the opposite of theirs. Her purple eyes glittered with excitement as she leant forwards, half-rising from her seat on Hermiones' other side.

In his best dueling pose, with a shout Harry exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

Elle eased back down onto her place in crestfallen disappointment, as Draco smirked at Harry from across the room.

Harry took down his wand, and closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts for a second. A solemn smile crossed his lips, he re-aimed his wand, and in a thunderous voice he shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

There was an explosive 'BOOM!' and a bolt of blue-white lightning shot from his wandtip. The light of Power illuminated his face as a massive, shaggy, prehistoric-looking stag leapt up into the night sky, its' hooves and huge antlers tearing and shredding Dementors left and right.

As the remaining Dementors fled, presumably back to Voldemort, the amazing Patronus reared up onto its' haunches and bellowed in fury that its' opponents had escaped the battle scene.

Harry then drew it back into his wand, breathing hard with the effort it took to constrain the magical beast.

Elle stared with open-mouthed wonder, and thought was whispered aloud, "I want this man! He's MINE!"

Harrys' face was still bathed in the light of Power, and he drew some ancient runes in the air in front of him with his wand, eyes locked in intense concentration. He then pointed his wand to the six cardinal points—north, south, east, west, above, and below—and exclaimed in the same voice of thunder, "Inorior-Evidens-Dictium!"

At his pronouncement, the very stones of the castle seemed to breathe in and out as the Olde Magick drew up from the very Earth itself, and wave after wave of glowing magic shot from his wandtip. An aurora borealis of multi-colored ancient Magick washed over all of Hogwarts, extending to its gates, and even over all the Dark Forest.

Harrys' eyes slid shut as his knees buckled, and he felt the black velvet of unconsciousness carrying him to the floor. Elle had leapt up, wrapping her fearless arms around his chest as he fell backwards, slipping to the floor with his head landing into her lap.

She leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto his scarred forehead, an 'accio'd handkerchief staunching the nosebleed he'd gotten from working the two powerful spells back to back.

"Merlins' balls!" breathed Draco. "No wonder St. Potter's always been so full of himself!" He looked around at the four conscious male Gryffindors and said, "Guys, for the very first time I really believe we might just win this war!"

Remus Lupin barely made it through the massive oak entry doors of Hogwarts, the Dementors circling the night sky in hot pursuit of the werewolf and the bundle of scorched fur and broken bones he held protectively close to his chest.

Suddenly a massive explosion of rippling waves of rainbow-hued magic knocked him off his feet. He dropped, curling the crippled cat more closely into his embrace, as it howled pitifully in protest against its' pain.

"Great gods!" he murmured to the cat. "What on earth was THAT?" He struggled to his feet, and began his trek towards the hospital wing carrying the patient.

He didn't make it past the entrance of the Great Hall, however, as he looked in and saw Harry on the floor, being ministered to by several girls and Madam Pomfrey. The injured cat peered over his arm, and mewled a piteous moan.

"What on earth," he repeated himself as he strode quickly to Harrys' side.

Hermione glanced up, then leapt to her feet to crush the werewolf in a strong embrace. "Professor Lupin!" she exclaimed. "We are ever so glad to see you!"

"And I, you, Hermione," he replied, then addressed the medi-witch, "Madam, I have a patient for you." He offered the cat for her inspection.

"Goddess!" whispered Poppy. "Poor Minerva! What did they do to you?"

The cat howled and mewled, trying desperately to speak to her as she ran her wand over and around checking its' injuries.

"Gillian, Luna, will you both accompany me to the hospital wing, please? Our newest patient will be needing 'round the clock nursing, after the initial treatment, and regrettably I MUST make Severus my primary concern," Poppy briskly explained.

Luna rose from where she'd been kneeling beside Harry, saying as she did so, "Poor, poor Professor McGonagall! I know you're in pain, but REALLY! Such language!"

"You can understand CAT?" questioned Ron in amazement.

"Can't everyone?" Luna questioned back, as she patted his cheek and left following Gillian and Poppy, who tenderly carried the broken bundle of cat.

Remus looked Rons' way with a raised eyebrow, while Fred and George began 'meowing' at Ron, much to his embarrassment. Draco wasn't even making any sound, because he was doubled up in silent laughter.

Harry was beginning to regain consciousness by this time, and Remus squatted beside him saying, "Here, eat this. It will help."

Elle reached out and purloined the proffered chocolate, which she peeled and sniffed carefully, before breaking off a piece and easing it into Harrys' mouth.

"Elle!" scolded Hermione. "Professor Lupin is our friend! He wouldn't give Harry anything to harm him."

"That's quite alright, Hermione," Remus said. "It's good to know that Harry's being protected when he can't defend himself." He helped Harry up to a seated position, but Harry seemed loathe to leave the embrace of Elles' arms.

'Well, well!' thought Remus, as he surveyed the darkly beautiful girl. 'Our Harrys' finally all grown up.'

The almost bitter, extra-dark chocolate did the trick, and with a sigh of regret Harry allowed Remus to help him to his feet. He wobbled a little unsteadily, still a bit dizzy, and instantly Elles' arms went out and encircled Harrys' waist as she and Remus helped Harry onto the sofa.

"It's so good to see you again, Professor Lupin," said Harry, unwittingly echoing Hermiones' own earlier statement. "I'm so glad you're here. We need you."

Remus held up a hand to forestall further comments, and he took a seat on the ottoman facing Harry. He said firmly, as he looked around the room, "Everyone, call me Remus. Battle comrades should be on a first name basis. It saves time in a life or death situation, don't you think? Now will someone please tell me what on earth you've been doing to harness such powerful magicks?"

All eyes turned towards Hermione, so she sucked it up, and began to explain.

Much later, an exhausted Poppy popped back into the infirmary to check on her other patient, after leaving Remus and Hagrid with Severus to continue sorting and replacing his memories.

Luna sat beside Professor McGonagall, who was still in her cat form and sleeping fitfully while the 'BoneKnit' and 'PainEz' potions worked their healing powers.

Hermione was about to leave, having only wanted to check up on her former Head-of-House before going to her own bed.

Poppy stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, I know there is a great risk involved in exposing yourself in Hogsmeade, but we need these ingredients for the binding potion to hold Severus' restored memories in place," she said, pressing a scrap of parchment into Hermiones' hand. "Try to get some sleep, dear. I'll need you to fetch these things, and brew the binding potion tomorrow. Severus' memories should be in place by morning, and he'll be needing the potion as soon as possible."

As an exhausted, naked Hermione crawled between her cool, crisp sheets, and her brain began to relax into near-sleep, a thought suddenly occurred to her putting a smile on her lips.

'Well now I guess I'll have a choice of Warriors to bond with. Remus is kind of cute, after all.'

But just before she drifted off into sleep, a pair of burning jet black eyes lit her mind and smiled sardonically at her folly.

The next morning Hermione discovered instead of the white robe

she'd removed the night before, the castle had left her a plain set of robes, complete with several serviceably darned and mended spots, and a comfortably broken in pair of lace-up witches boots.

After she'd braided her hair and wrapped it into a coronet-effect held up with a sticking charm, together with the tall boots on and her hood up, she was easily four inches taller and sufficiently nondescript enough to feel comfortable about leaving the safety of the castle.

For the necessary ingredients, she would need to visit Sluggs & Dribbles, the one place in Hogsmeade that was sure to have any questionable items for use in the darker magical arts.

Hermione thought, rather irreverently, 'I wonder if Snapes' got an account with them that I can run the bill on?', as she put her maroon velvet galleon pouch into the pocket of the faded blue cloak, and slipped her wand into the concealed pocket on the left arm that was just for that purpose.

Everyone at breakfast was excited and puzzled at Hermiones' attire, and she had to explain about her errand for Poppy. There was much heated debate on the sensibility and danger of an excursion into Hogsmeade, but her mind was made up and she wouldn't be swayed.

Draco came around the table and lifted first one of her sleeves, then the other. "Looks like more Weasley hand-me-downs, to me," he said in his snarkiest manner. He then left the Great Hall, the muffin thrown by Fred barely missing his white-blond aristocratic head.

Elle patted Hermiones' arm and said, "He can be such a prat sometimes, especially when he's worried about something."

"Stop defending Draco," Harry suddenly snapped at Elle, to her shocked surprise. "Or go after him. . . ,whatever," he finished, feeling suddenly foolish for being jealous of her 'relationship' with his former nemesis.

After what was almost an uncomfortably long silence at table, Erika leaned her golden head onto Freds' shoulder, and said, "Well, no one ever said that Slytherins were made for easy relationships."

Fred's eyes twinkled, and he dared a swift kiss on the top of her head, "Love a good challenge, love! Don't you, Harry?"

Harry was just wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. 'Where did that come from?' he thought. 'Good job, Potter, probably lost all chances with her now!'

Ron shot Harry a look, then rolled his eyes and winked, nodding towards Elle. He then grinned, and silently mouthed the words, "What are you doing? Apologize!"

Harry grinned sheepishly, and although his face was flushed with embarrassment, he apologized to Elle for his hasty, angry words.

"I accept your apology, Harry," said Elle. "And just for the record, NOTHING has ever happened between Draco and me, no matter what that peacock says."

"Peacock? Don't you mean ferret?" snorted Ron.

At which a good laugh was had by all present.

Meanwhile, Hermione had managed to sneak away on her mission of mercy and was nearly to the gate that led to Hogsmeade Village, trying to be as stealthy as possible. She was carrying on an irritated conversation with herself, "Really, I am a female after all! Shopping is ONE thing I can manage to do perfectly adequately on my very own, thank you!"

Hermione grumbled on, "Besides, why do they always think that just because I'm a girl that I need protecting? Don't they realize that if they're seen in Hogsmeade, Voldemort will find out where we're hiding? Honestly! I am able to defend myself, after all."

She stopped, and listened intently for a long moment. Nothing but the chirruping of crickets in the tall grasses in the ditches beside the path, and the whistling of nesting birds in the nearby bushes. She could have SWORN she'd heard a muffled snicker.

"Must be nerves," she rationalized out loud, walking on at a more leisurely pace now that she was nearly at her destination.

The brass bell over the door jangled as Hermione entered Sluggs & Dribbles. An attractive chocolate skinned woman in a colorful turban asked Hermione if she could be of assistance in a smooth, rich Jamaican accent.

Hermione passed her list across the counter, and the proprietress moved off to fill the order. She pulled down several bunches of rare, dried herbs from the huge overhead rafters, then moved off into a back room for a small bottle of a dark ichor.

A hand reached out and touched Hermiones' shoulder, which caused her to squeek out in fright. Suddenly, there stood Draco Malfoy laughing at her, much to her annoyance. Before she could lash out verbally which she felt like doing, Draco shushed her with a deadly serious look and shake of his head.

"Good job that I 'borrowed' Potters' cloak and came along, Granger," said Draco under his breath. "Are you aware that you walked past three Deatheaters as you came in here?"

Hermiones' eyes widened and her heart felt as if it was clamped in a vice, as she whispered back, "Was I recognized, Draco?"

He pondered her question for a moment before he replied, "I don't think so, or they'd be in here already to check it out. But let's not dally, and just in case, we'll BOTH share Potters' cloak on our return trip."

She nodded, firmly in agreement. She reached into her pocket to be prepared to pay for her purchases, only to discover her money was missing. Hermione began frantically searching all her pockets, her cheeks turning an ever deepening shade of crimson at her inability to pay for her items.

Draco just smirked, "Problems, Granger?"

Hermione turned her embarrassed eyes to look into his silver-blue amused ones, and the penny fell. "You THIEF! You picked my pocket at breakfast, didn't you, Malfoy?"

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, but spoke with an unexpected honesty and a look of seriousness in his eyes, "This is for my godfather, without whom I'd now probably be a soul-slave to the Dark Lord. Please, Hermione, allow me to make this purchase. It's a tiny return for all he's done for me." He handed her back her galleon pouch.

She looked deeply into Dracos' eyes, and nodded as she slid the pouch back into her pocket.

The proprietress approached Hermione to clarify the final ingredients. "These spiderwebs you require, miss . . . , I'm thinking these are for a binding potion, no?" At Hermiones' uneasy nod, the proprietress said, "Well I have some trained spiders, and for a small additional fee, I can have them weave the persons name into the web. It's been my experience that the personalized webs make for a more effective potion."

"Madam," Draco spoke up, "we will be happy to take the personalized webs. Cost is of no importance." He waved his long-fingered hand with an unconscious Malfoy gesture. Hermione gave a miffed snort, and moved away. Draco stopped the shop owner with a finger, and asked, "Madam, how many webs are on our list?"

"Two," she replied. "One for day, one for night."

A beautifully wicked smile crossed his angelic face. Malfoys knew how to reward their friends, and to his way of thinking , Severus deserved love same as any one else. Someone as intelligent as he, fiery enough to hold her own against his ascerbic wit, generous-hearted enough to forgive his flaws, and highly shaggable wouldn't hurt either. Granger fit the bill to a tee.

So with his most innocent expression, he said, "Make the day web read 'Severus', and the night web will need to read 'Hermione'."

The proprietress gave him a hard stare, then her own face broke into a grin that matched his perfectly. In only a few minutes the webs were completed, wrapped into separate parchment envelopes, and resting in the basket over Hermiones' arm, on their way back to Hogwarts to change Severus' destiny forever.

A weary, haggard pair entered the Great Hall to have their breakfast, and two cups of strong, hot coffee.

Harry observed the exhausted pallor of Poppy and Remus with worried eyes. Even the normally boisterous twins stared soberly at the somber pair.

Quite unexpectedly, it was Neville who asked the unaskable, "Well, how'd it go with Snape? Is it going to work or not?"

Remus raised haunted eyes up from where he'd been staring sightlessly into his coffee cup. Poppy stretched out a consoling hand, and gently patted his own tense, clenched one.

He spoke harshly to the gathered young people, more angry with himself than with them, "Severus! His name is Severus, not 'greasy git', 'old bat', or ANY other disrespectful names. Including, by tone of voice, making 'Snape' sound like an insult!"

More calmly, Remus continued, "I've spent the better part of the past fourteen hours inside Severus' mind and memories. Suffice it to say, he has more than ample reasons to be the way he is. And he has suffered unknown times at the Dark Lords' hands to protect you all, even though he received nothing but your fear, animosity, and loathing in return." He let out a deep, shuddering sigh as he confessed, "I, myself, and guilty of wronging him. But no more! Anyone who DARES to offer Severus an insult will answer to me!" He returned his stare into his now cold coffee.

Poppy patted his arm again, then spoke, "I believe once the binding potion has been brewed and administered, Severus will be functional again. I've given him another dose of 'Compliance' potion, and a strengthening draught. He's having more lucid moments, now."

"That brings us to some more practical, but necessary nursing duties that I will need help with. Neville and Amanda, would you please relieve Gillian and Luna in the hospital wing and look after Minerva? Give them my orders to eat a bite of breakfast, and to get some sleep. They'll need to be rested for their lessons tonight with Mab," she tried to infuse some enthusiasm into her voice, but failed miserably.

Poppys' eyes scanned the room, then she asked, "Where's Draco? I have a job that will require both Harrys' and Dracos' assistance, so that Remus can also get some rest."

The twins both stood up and said simultaneously, "We'll find him," as they exited the Great Hall with purposeful strides.

Remus lifted remorseful eyes to Poppys' and said, "Poppy, I'll help Harry in Dracos' place, so we can have Severus more comfortable as soon as possible. Harry, will you help us?"

Harrys' lips tightened, and instantly Elle rose to stand beside him. She laid a porcelain hand gently on his shoulder, giving it a pleading squeeze. He looked up into those gorgeous amethyst eyes, begging with no words, and he couldn't tell Remus no. The sudden burst of joy that illuminated her face sealed the deal. He stood up and obediently followed Poppy and Remus back down to Snapes' dungeon chambers.

Snape was sitting up in bed, a breakfast tray over his lap that had barely been touched. "Lupin, Pomfrey," he acknowledged with a polite nod of his dark head. Poppy bustled through into his private bathroom, and began to draw him a nice, hot bath, as Remus stepped up to remove the breakfast tray.

Harry swallowed back the anger he still felt towards Snape, and found the courage to meet Snapes' stare and address him, "Good morning, Professor. I'm pleased to see that you're feeling more yourself today, sir."

Snape blinked in astonishment, but recovered quickly to snark back, "How civil of you, Potter." Then a curious look of bewilderment crossed Severus' face, and he turned his head to stare around him as if he'd never seen this strange room in his life.

Harry jerked a troubled glance at Remus, who was running a nervous hand around the back of his neck. Remus explained, "His memories have been restored, but they're not in chronological order yet. That's what the 'Binding' potion will do. He's basically in a kind of memory flux."

Poppy popped back into the bedroom, and called Remus and Harry over to help her get Severus into the bathroom. Harry just couldn't face up to helping Snape to relieve himself, or to strip, so he stood facing the door until they'd gotten Snape into his tub.

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it," Poppy said briskly. "I'll go have the house elves put on clean bed linens, and find some fresh towels and garments for Severus." On that note, she stepped out, closing the door softly behind her.

Remus stripped off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Harry followed suit, pulling off the jumper made so lovingly for him by Molly Weasley. That left him in his muggle tee-shirt and jeans.

Remus lathered up Snapes' matted, greasy hair and massaged it into a creamy foam. Harry slowly poured a bucket of clean, warm water over Snapes' head as Remus rinsed out the shampoo.

Remus passed a well soaped-up sea sponge to Harry and said in a quiet tone, "Harry, please wash his back for me. I had to review his memories all night, and I just can't handle it yet." He moved around, and began to wash Snapes' arms and chest with a second sponge.

Harry started to soap up Snapes' back, and froze, as he stared at a cross-hatch of thin, silvery scars across Snapes' shoulders that extended the length of his back, even onto his buttocks. He stood stock still in shock for several long seconds, then began to apply the soapy sponge as gently as if the old scars were fresh wounds. He raised distraught eyes to stare at Remus over Snapes' head. "When? Who?" whispered Harry. The only reply was, "Later, Harry, later." Harry moved around Snapes' left side to retrieve the bucket with which to rinse off his back.

Remus helped Severus to stand up to complete his wash, and as quick as lightning, Severus caught Harry by his sleeve, stumbling with a thump back into the soapy water bringing Harry with him.

"James, I'm so sorry! I found out too late to get word to Lily and you. I tried to get there, James, I swear! But I was too late, always too late! When I reached your house, Lily was already dead. That's when I saw HIM. He was just sitting there in the corner, staring at my Deatheaters mask. He wasn't even crying, James. You'd have been so proud. Even as a baby, Lilys' son was a brave little Gryffindor, just like she'd been."

"My fellow Deatheaters were swarming everywhere, trying to find the Dark Lord. I knew I had to protect the son Lily'd died for. I followed her frozen stare, and saw the corner of your invisibility cloak sticking out of the cupboard. I took it and wrapped the boy in it, and walked straight out of the chaos of that damned place."

"I managed to find a safe place, and apparated us to Dumbledore, who I knew to at least be an honest man, and a powerful wizard. I could think of no-one better to leave the boy with."

"James, did I do the right thing? James. . . , why are you staring at me with Lilys' eyes?" Severus finally rambled to an end of his monologue, and returned his confused focus to stare off into space.

Harry clambered out of the tub, and swallowed hard. As pity and an adults' understanding flooded his heart, he felt all his mistrust and hatred melt away like a snowflake in July.

Snape had rescued him as a helpless baby. Snape had tried to protect him, and teach him all his years at Hogwarts. By returning his fathers' old invisibility cloak his first year at Hogwarts, in a sad way Snape had been responsible for giving him the only Christmas present he'd ever received from his dad.

He would try to befriend this man, and defend him, no matter what any one said or thought. It was what Dumbledore had wanted. Now he was sure it would've been what his mum and dad would want, too. It also meant that Harry owed Severus Snape a life-debt.

Poppy came back in, and with a 'tsk, tsk' at Harrys' soggy state, passed him a dry towel for himself from the stack she carried. She and Remus managed between them to help a naked, shivering Severus from his tub, and dried him off, and into fresh shorts, a white linen shirt, black trousers and waist-coat, clean socks, and his comfortable black boots.

His jet black hair was a lot longer than he'd always worn it, hanging just below his shoulders. Poppy gently combed it out, easing the comb through the snarls as easily as she could. Finally with a sub-vocal spell, and a flick of her wand, his face was smooth shaven and his hair was dry and silky enough to rival Lucius Malfoys' own mane.

They led him into his sitting room, and he automatically selected a tall-backed arm chair set in front of the fireplace, across from a slightly softer companion chair. Severus waved his hand towards the fireplace, and said, "Incendare," at which a cozy little fire flared up in the hearth.

By this time, an out-of-breath Draco knocked on Severus' door, and was admitted by a still damp Harry.

"Did it work? Where is he? How is he?" all came out in a rush of words from Dracos' mouth, as he pushed past Harry, looking around wildly for Severus. He relaxed a bit as he saw Severus clean, groomed, and looking much more the thing, seated in the chair he normally sat in for their weekly Wizards chess game.

"He's still in memory flux, according to Poppy," Harry whispered, pulling Draco aside. "He's lucid, but his memories keep shifting back and forth from childhood to adulthood, and back. He really NEEDS that binding potion, as soon as Hermione can get it brewed."

It was Dracos' turn to swallow hard, and stiffen his spine. "She's back, and working on it," he whispered back to Harry. But aloud he said, "Hello, Severus! Are we still on for our chess match?" as he stepped forward into Snapes' line of vision, a forced grin on his face.

Severus waved a hand at the side table sitting between the two chairs, and his prized antique chrysophrase and lapis chessmen set themselves up into position on the board. Draco took his place in the second arm chair, and motioned the others to leave the room.

After pouring Severus his next dose of 'Compliance' potion, a truly exhausted Poppy smiled her gratitude and left for some much needed sleep.

Harry and Remus followed her out, closing the door behind them. Harry brought up the subject of the scars Snape bore as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower, where Remus had acquired a teachers' suite to rival Snapes' at the castles construction.

Remus stopped in his tracks, and ran a weary hand across his eyes. "Harry, you already know that there are good wizards and bad wizards in the world. There are also good men and bad men, in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Severus' father was both, and he took a sick pleasure from beating his only son with a lightning whip whenever his son smiled, or laughed, or showed love to anything or anyone—including his own mother."

Harry had been silently listening with bowed head, staring down at his still wet trainers.

Remus finished with, "Tobias Snape held Voldemort up to Severus as his ideal, even though Voldemort despised him for being Muggle-born. But Voldemort welcomed the chance to twist Severus, and even had Tobias murdered while Severus was in school here with us. Harry, you know Severus is an extremely private person, and I've told you this in confidence. This can never go any further, do you understand?"

Harry nodded his head, and walked on in search of a place he could be alone to think.

End Chapter Six

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	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling, and don't own any rights to her characters, etc. This is an AU, so anything that is not canon, please excuse and just sit back and try to enjoy MY world! That being said, let's get down to it!

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Chapter Seven: Back In Black; or The Snark Is Back

Fred and George finally found Draco climbing the pathway back from Hogsmeade with Hermione.

"Where've you been, Malfoy? Pomfrey and Lupin sent us to find you nearly an hour ago. You're wanted down in Snape's chambers immediately," they said in their 'twin-speak'.

"You go on ahead, Draco," Hermione said, as Draco's already fair skin turned a whiter shade of pale. "I'll go start the 'binding' potion at once."

As Draco took off at a dead run, Fred and George laughed jeeringly, and called after him, "Check it out! I bet Malfoy's could run in the Olympics and bring home the gold!"

Hermione rounded on them instantly, her brown eyes flashing her anger. "Snape is his godfather, as well as his relation! Is it so surprising that Draco has feelings for him, maybe even loves him? How'd you feel if it were Bill, or Charlie, or your dad?" She heatedly said.

Both sheepishly bowed their heads, and mumbled, "Sorry, 'Mione. Didn't think about that," and moved off towards the Dark Forest.

She continued on, making her way inside the castle, and down to the Potions laboratory with her precious cargo. There she found Elle waiting for her, having already started the base for the potion carefully following the recipe provided by Poppy.

Hermione set down her basket of ingredients, and removed her cloak. She then began to empty the basket, and organize the various equipment and ingredients necessary as listed in the recipe.

It was a complicated and precise potion, even more difficult than 'Poly-Juice' potion, and required all of Hermione's concentration and skills. She was careful to make sure that the Valerian root was extra-finely minced, and that the Asodelphius root was properly ground up, before measuring them out and tipping them into the nicely bubbling cauldron, as Elle stirred them in gently with her willow mixing wand.

Hermione then began to grind a piece of glowing amber in Snapes' prized alabaster mortar and pestle. She'd expected it to be more difficult to grind, but it proved to be relatively easy. It was soon ground into a fine enough powder to pass through the silver sieve, and it too was added, along with the vial of Chinese-crested dragons' blood. Hermione stared at the recipe, then at Elle, as she read the next ingredient needed. "Seven tears of a virgin. Where do we get seven tears of a virgin?" She asked Elle.

Elle looked at her questioningly, and without asking the pertinent question, she said, "Right here. Hang on a second, and let me dwell on sad thoughts." Her forehead furrowed, as her lips tightened and the tip of her nose pinked up. Slowly, several crystal tears began to roll down her creamy cheeks, which Hermione quickly caught in a silver spoon. She counted them off carefully, as she dripped them into the cauldron, each one making a soft 'hiss' as it fell into the brew.

As Elle dried her eyes and blew her nose, Hermione extra-carefully opened the parchment envelopes that contained the spider webs. She slowly slipped the day-time web into the cauldron, and the potion turned a beautiful shade of canary. She then slipped in the night-time web, and there was an unexpected flare up of brightest crimson, then the brew settled down into the deep, lovely mandarin orange color it was supposed to be. A chunk of fresh honeycomb, donated by Hagrid from his own personal apiary, was the final ingredient to be added.

The two young witches looked at each other, chocolate eyes meeting amethyst eyes, each hoping that their best efforts and most precise skills had been enough. But it HAD been the Half-Blood-Princes' own recipe, after all. "Well, it needs to simmer for an hour before it can be strained, cooled, and bottled for use," Elle said, laying her willow mixing wand aside, and stretching her back out. "Hermione?" Elle questioned hesitantly.

"Yes, Elle?" Hermione answered, not quite ready to go into what she feared the question would be.

"Who took your virginity? Was it Ron . . ., or Harry?" She asked softly.

"Neither," Hermione answered flatly, in a firm tone that brooked no further discussion of the subject.

"I see," Elle said with a sigh of relief. "Hermione?" She queried again.

Hermione sighed loudly, and answered again, "Yes, Elle?"

"How do you feel about Severus?" She asked, having come to the same conclusion about the magical pairings as Hermione herself. "What do you really think about him?"

"I think he is a grim, snarky bastard, as cold-blooded as the Slytherin symbol," was her quick reply. Then she stopped, and really thought about it. "He's also probably the most intelligent man I've ever met, and very brave. Did you know that he put himself between an attacking werewolf and Harry, Ron, and me our third year . . ., without his wand, I might add! I guess I'm just having trouble seeing him as anything but my Potions Professor," she finished with a shake of her honey-brown head.

Elle had been watching her carefully, and listening intently. She reached over and patted Hermione's arm consolingly.

Hermione gave her a small smile, and said, "That's alright, Elle. I've already begun to work it out for myself. After all, Professor Trelawney said that I was born an old soul, and that it was my destiny to end up 'an old maid, with a heart as dry and dusty as the pages of the books to which I so desperately cling'." She gave a small, bitter laugh.

Elle looked her dead in the eyes, and said quite seriously, "Even Severus would be a better future than that fate."

This gave Hermione plenty more food for thought.

Ron slowly climbed the hill to Harry's 'thinking spot', the rocky crag that overlooked the lake.

"Hiya', Harry!" Ron called hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on his privacy, but hoping to keep Harry from brooding into his 'dark place'.

Harry glanced up in acknowledgement of Ron's presence, before he returned his stare to the rippling surface of the lake. "Do you remember Buckbeak?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure I do. I was afraid Hagrid would make me take it on after you, but Malfoy acting the prat cancelled the class," chuckled Ron.

"That first time riding on him, he skimmed the lake surface just there," Harry pointed off to his right. "It was truly awesome. A simple, but happy moment in my life," Harry said before growing silent again, and continuing to stare at the lake.

Ron didn't say anything, but it really wasn't necessary any way, just sitting beside Harry and lending him moral support was all he seemed to need.

After a long silence, Harry turned his troubled gaze toward Ron and said, "I've been thinking about our past here at Hogwarts, our growing up, and everything we've been through. I believe Dumbledore knew all along that Voldemort could read and use my mind against us, against ME, to learn what we were doing and planning against him. I believe Snape, and for that matter, Draco, made me hate him . . ., made US hate them, so they could spy for our side without arousing suspicion."

Ron listened, and pondered this for a while. Then he carefully said, "I didn't know about Malfoy being on our side until you told us, I swear, Harry. But that summer we spent at the Orders' headquarters, I found out about Snape, and was forbidden to tell you on Dumbledore's orders. We all were, so you might be right. I overheard enough to begin to trust Snape that is until he murdered Dumbledore. Now I'm not so sure about HIM any more."

"Snape was under the influence of the 'Imperious Curse'!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "And of Dumbledore's own casting! Trust me on this Ron, if you've never trusted me before." Harry stood up. "We've all misjudged Snape, but the LAST thing he'd want would be our pity. He's a hard, proud man, but he at the very least deserves our respect. Anyone who can't, or won't, will have to answer to me . . . , and to Remus, as well," he added for good measure.

"Never said I didn't respect him, just mistrusted him is all," said Ron, standing up. "Same as everyone else."

Harry nodded his understanding, stood up, and changed the subject, "Want to go to the hospital wing with me to check up on Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah, okay," Ron answered, and together they companionably began the long trek back to the castle.

It was much later in the day before Poppy and Remus rejoined the young people. Hermione had the binding potion bottled and ready for their inspection.

Poppy held it up to the light to check the color and consistency, and then waved her diagnostic wand first over the written recipe, then over the actual bottled brew. She smiled, and exchanged a pleased nod with Remus.

"Excellent, ladies!" Exclaimed Remus, with a genuine smile for both girls. "Come with us, please." Both girls followed Poppy and him to Snapes' quarters. Remus gave a sharp knock on the door, and then opened it at Snapes' brusk, "Enter."

Draco looked their way with distraught eyes, and joined Snape in rising politely to their feet at the entrance of the three females. Elle immediately crossed to Draco's side, and smoothly lied through her teeth, "There you are Draco. I've been looking everywhere for you! We're late for dueling practice, if you'll excuse us, sir," she finished by addressing Snape himself.

With the inclination of his head, she grabbed Draco's arm and they made their escape.

"Severus," said Poppy, looking him directly in the eyes. "Drink this; it will help clear the confusion from your mind."

He stared at the bottled orange-colored potion, then unstoppered it and smelt it. "This is a binding potion," he stated.

"That's right, to bind your memories into a cohesive chronological order," explained Poppy.

Severus looked at Poppy, then at Remus, and finally at Hermione. "Who brewed this?" He asked.

"I did, sir," answered Hermione.

Without another moments' hesitation, he raised the bottle to his lips, tipping the contents into his mouth and draining the bottle.

Hermione never let go of the eye contact Snape had fastened onto her. She stared into his jet black eyes, watching as his mind ran the gauntlet of emotions; memory after memory finding its' proper place and locking into it.

Finally, his eyes slid shut, and he ran a tentative tongue-tip across his lips. "My compliments to the Potions Mistress," said Snape, re-opening his eyes to return his stare into Hermione's own brown worried eyes.

Hermione's heart plunged toward her feet with a suddenness that made her feel like she'd just gone down the big hill on a rollercoaster. It was plain for anyone to see.

The Snark was BACK!

That evening at supper, after all the young people had gathered and taken their places, Severus Snape entered the Great Hall supported by an ebony cane bearing twin winding serpents that bore a remarkable resemblance to the Staff of Aesclepious. He was followed closely by Remus and Poppy, with Hagrid bringing up the rear. He paused as if unsure of his welcome, and Remus laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.

Snape squared his shoulders, stiffened his spine, and raised himself to his full six-foot-two-inch height. His lip curled into its' normal sneer, and his jet eyes glittered as he shrugged off Remus' hand. "Lupin, you are aware that I dislike being touched," he snarled. "Don't make a habit of it."

Draco rose from his place beside auburn Ravenclaw and came around the table to greet Severus, and lend his arm if needed. His wand arm, that is, because by all the gods if anyone DARED to raise a wand against Severus he'd hex them into next week!

Harry had risen at the same time as Draco, and was the first to speak, "Welcome back, Professor. It's good to have you with us again." That began the rest of the little groups' chorusing their own 'welcomes', with various degrees of warmth and politeness.

It amazed Hermione that for once Severus Snape actually seemed to be . . . yes, he was! He was BLUSHING! And speechless! But she just couldn't get over the blush that suffused his cheeks, and the downcast eyes. He looked like a first-year that he himself had chastised for a substandard potion.

Later, the meal eaten and dirty dishes cleared away by the houselves, Poppy explained their predicament to Severus. His gaze appeared to turn inwards as he pondered these new facts. Finally he gave a deep sigh, and rubbed a weary hand against his aching temples. As he looked up, his eyes met and locked onto Hermione's, and he said, "Let me make sure that I have this straight. The Dark Lord has successfully recruited an army of minions, that include Dementors and who knows what other dark magical creatures, and begun a murder revel. Our side currently consists of thirteen barely legal witches and wizards, an ex-Deatheater, a half-giant, a werewolf, one medi-witch, and a cat. Am I correct?"

Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly, and said, "Yes sir, that's about it, except for one more thing. We also have Queen Mab and the Olde Magicks on our side, too."

Severus felt an unexpected pull towards Hermione, a very adult pull, and it disturbed him. 'This can't be right!' he thought. 'She's your STUDENT! Albus would be in fits, were he still alive, you murderer!' But aloud he said, "Merciful Merlin, I've GOT to still be in St. Mungo's!"

He looked around the table, meeting nothing but serene, smiling faces and nodding heads. "We are SO screwed," he growled under his breath, which only Lupin heard from his place beside Severus.

Lupin gave a wry grin, and leaned over to whisper in an aside to Severus, "Are you in?"

"I love a good challenge," he replied, his glittering black eyes staring intently into Hermione's wide topaz orbs. And he smiled sardonically.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: All my usual disclaimers, ect., I'm not J.K. and own no rights to HP, but am 'borrowing' several of her characters and weaving them into my A/U, along with characters of my very own. I may not follow canon exactly, as my universe began to veer from J.K.'s somewhere in HBP and picks up where DH should be running. I wanted to give SS, RL, FW, AD, and others different, happier endings (don't they deserve it?). Your reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated; PLEASE forgive my typo's and other mistakes! It's been a LOOONNGG time since I sat at a typewriter (doesn't it tell just how long, since I didn't call it a 'keyboard'?), so where are we now? Ah, yes, Snape is back. Let's get to it, then.

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Chapter Eight: If I Could Turn Back Time; or Through the LookingGlass

The days slipped by, one after another, and everyone fell into a comfortable routine. The guys spent their mornings in what felt suspiciously like classes with Severus and Remus, reading book after book on various curses, hexes, wardings, and potions; the girls spent their mornings sleeping in, having not gotten to bed until dawn because of their nightly lessons with Mab.

Harry was fast becoming something of a bookworm, unconsciously drawing on some of Hermiones' abilities. Even Snape was inspired to offer him an occasional compliment on the academic improvement he was showing. He also found that his dueling was improving, as it became easier to remember better, faster, more powerful spells.

Neville was at first in a quake every time Snape even looked his way, much less called on him to answer a question. But gradually, he actually started to shine—especially in potions. He only fainted once, and that happened when Snape told him 'Good job, Longbottom' when he was the first one to complete a rather difficult potions assignment.

Ron was disgusted at having to resume 'classes', especially since he no longer had Hermione or Luna to 'crib' from, and no one else would let him.

Fred and George had been closet bookworms for years. How else had they been able to invent their 'Weasleys' Wheezers'? They'd both come in at the top of their Potions OWLs every year, and every one knew that Snape cut no slack in his classroom. They'd not let any of this be known, because they'd not wanted to be like Percy. He might be their brother, but Percy was a prat.

Draco had inherited a fine mind and keen intelligence from both his parents. Learning and studies had always come easy to him, with very little effort on his part. If not for Voldemorts' return, he would have joined both his father and his godfather as a rarity—a Slytherin Head Boy.

Now that Snape no longer had to cosset and pamper the children of his fellow Deatheaters, he was able to REALLY teach, something he truly loved to do. If he could just keep his thoughts from drifting towards his prized pupil, that Gryffindor extraordinaire, Hermione Granger! Why on earth could he not get her off his mind? He'd NEVER had any inclinations towards pedophilia before! 'What's wrong with me?' he thought. 'Am I becoming a dirty old man?'

Everyone always met in the Great Hall for an enormous afternoon tea, and both males and females were eager to share what they'd learnt. Remus had always had a relaxed, accepting manner, and so he treated the young adults as just that—adults.

Severus, while more relaxed than ANYONE—even Remus or Draco—could remember, still had a problem letting down his reserve. But he smiled a truly genuine smile once or twice, and condescended to engage in their conversations whenever his opinion was sought.

On these rare occasions, Hermione stored up mental images of a more 'human' Snape. She still had trepidations about this 'sex magick' stuff, but he was DEFINITELY becoming a more palatable option. After all, it would only be the one time. Surely she could 'take one for the team', couldn't she?

Remus watched both Hermiones' reaction to Severus, and Severus' reactions to Hermione, with a sly half-smile. Poppy had filled him in on the whole 'pairings' thing, and after he'd gotten over his initial shock, he could really visualize them together. Severus would make her tougher, thicken her skin, so to speak. She'd make him more open, maybe even help him find the absolution that he craved—but wouldn't admit to.

Since the murder of her parents, and every one of her other relations by Deatheaters six months ago, it seemed Hermione had been lost, any way. Even with Harry as an adopted brother, she was missing her father most dreadfully. Maybe an older wizard WAS what she needed. Remus would just wait and see, but the gods help Severus Snape if he tried to use her like a slag. He'd KILL him, the Ministry and Azkaban be damned!

During their joint evenings, in the hours before supper was served up in the Great Hall, everyone went on 'spider hunts' or just plain practiced their dueling in pairs. Of course, if some of the pairs chose to duel for snogs, everyone else pretended not to notice. The only rule that was STRICTLY enforced was the 'No Sex Rule', and that was Mabs' Rule so no-one dared break it.

Fred and Erika, were now openly a pair, kissing and arguing openly; as well as George and Mandy, who while the calmer, quieter pair, were still as openly affectionate. For the first time in the twins' lives, they were letting another person get just as close to them as they were to each other.

Ron had finally screwed his courage to the sticking point, and snogged the shi—ite out of Luna Lovegood. And she had reciprocated, pinning his back against a huge oak tree and trying her best to find out what he'd had for breakfast so deeply did she return his kiss.

Neville had been slow to act on his growing fascination with Gillian. As a matter of fact, Gillian had been the one to initiate a shy, gentle kiss when they were 'spider hunting' away from the others. But Neville Longbottom had been the one to pull her closer against him, and kiss her back most thoroughly, much to both their satisfactions.

Draco was in hot pursuit of one auburn-haired Ravenclaw, Miranda, but she continued to laughingly dance just beyond his grasp. Although he was quickly developing a serious case of 'blue balls', he had yet to even kiss her. He now sometimes walked with a slight limp after their duels, and it had nothing to do with being hit by a curse. Miranda, on the other hand, skipped as happily as Luna Lovegood ever had, blowing kisses in the air aimed Dracos' way.

Harry was in over his head, and he knew it. He needed a fathers' advice, and most oddly it wasn't Remus that he elected to ask. He found himself, almost against his will, inviting Severus Snape to take a private walk with him up to his 'thinking place'.

'Oh bloody hell, Severus,' he thought, 'well-done. The-Boy-Who-Lived is now going to read these unnatural thoughts about Hermione, and you are going to be SO dead!' But they walked side-by-side in a tense silence up to the rocky crag, and sat down to stare at the rippling lake surface together.

Severus waited patiently for Harry to say or do whatever he felt he needed to, but was totally unprepared for the embarrassed look Harry gave him before he began to speak, "Sev. . .ah. . . , Professor Snape, I have a VERY limited amount of experience with the opposite sex," he blushed a fiery crimson red at Snapes' open-mouthed goggle.

"Merlins' Balls, Potter! You're not asking ME to explain the 'birds and bees' are you?" Severus asked in astonishment, closely akin to horror.

"No sir, not THAT! Uncle Vernon had that talk with both my cousin Dudley and me when we were ten years old. At least the part about how not to get the girl 'in the family way'," Harry said in a rush. "It's the parts he failed to explain that I need help with."

Now it was Severus' turn to redden as he cleared his throat, and croaked out, "And just what parts are THOSE, Mr. Potter?" He HAD been a Head-of-House, after all, and he had provided counseling over the years to both boys and girls on just this subject. 'Forget who's asking, Severus,' he thought. 'Just answer the boys' questions, and get on with it.'

Harry sat in an embarrassed silence, as he tried to verbalize his thoughts. Then he turned an open, vulnerable, emerald gaze to meet a shining black stare. Severus was taken aback. 'Sweet Circe, Albus was right! The boy is just as much, if not more, Lily Evans as he was James Potter. James would've NEVER looked at me like this! Lily, yes, James, no,' thought Severus, much to his surprise.

"Sir, how would a Gryffindor go about courting a Slytherin?" Harry softly asked. "I mean, I've had two crushes before, but this is . . ., different, some

how. I can't explain just HOW it's different. It's just DIFFERENT!" Harry stumbled to a halt.

Of anything Harry could've asked, this open, honest question took Severus' breath away, so close was it to his very own conundrum. He pondered this for a while before he answered carefully, "Well, assuming the person in question is interested in you also, you could try an honest approach. But MOST Slytherins prefer to be the Seeker, not the Snitch. If I were you, I'd play the Snitch for a while, and wait for her to try to catch me. If that fails to do the trick, then reverse the order and see if she responds better to that approach." 'There, that sounds pretty good,' Severus thought with a pat of self-congratulations to himself.

The penny dropped for Harry, and he began to laugh. "So THAT is what Miranda's doing to Draco!" Harry exclaimed.

"Who do you think advised her, Harry?" Severus queried with his familiar arched eyebrow and snarky tone, before he, too, began to laugh, much to Harrys' shock and delight.

They had seemed to have reached an accord, and the two wizards walked back down the hill much more at peace with, and accepting of, one another.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Elle had been dueling each other, and had finally come to a 'draw'. As they flopped down onto the grass to catch their respective breaths, both girls started to laugh. Elle grew serious, and put a question to Hermione, "Hermione, how can I get Harry to notice me? I've done everything I can think of, and short of acting the 'grindylow', I have no idea how to interest him!"

"Well, first off, the 'grindylow' approach won't work with Harry. Just ask Pansy Parkinson or Lavender Brown, because they both tried," Hermione answered in a serious tone. "Harry's just very shy around girls. He gets tongue-tied, and clumsy, and just turns into an idiot. You'd have to know just how unloved and unwanted he's always been in the only home he's ever known, by the only relations he's ever known. They made him feel like a worthless burden his whole life." Hermione gave a shuddering sigh, and she continued, "He has an ache so deep in his heart, that I think he's afraid to let

himself be open to being loved by a girl. I believe he honestly doesn't feel worthy of anyones' love."

Elles' beautiful amethyst eyes shimmered with genuine tears, and she said, "I could love him, I know I could. All my life, all I've ever wanted to be is a wife and mother. I don't want to be a modern witch, with a career and all! I just want to love my husband, and be loved in return."

"For Merlins' sake, don't tell Harry THAT! At least not right away! That's why he broke up with Ginny! He's terrified that You-Know-Who will read his mind, and use anyone he loves as a weapon against him, and I have the feeling that he's right about that," Hermione admonished her.

Hermione continued in a calmer tone, "Why don't you try an honest approach with him? Who's to say that the girl can't chase the boy? Just do it in a ladylike fashion, and remember Harry will NEVER make a 'move' in public."

Elle gave her a watery smile, and sniffed back the tears hovering in her eyes. "I'll do it! I'll try to win Harry Potters' heart for my very own!"

After they'd eaten their supper, the girls all left following Poppy for their nightly lessons with Mab. Remus and Severus sent the guys off to bed, and retired to Severus' dungeon chambers for a generous brandy and a refilling of Remus' Wolfsbane Potion, as the full moon was only one week away.

They'd decided to fetch the potion first, and Severus was furious! His precious private potions storeroom had been ransacked, his whole six month supply of the necessary Wolfsbane Potion was gone, even the needed ingredients were gone with which to brew more. Although it was a moot point, as the potion had to be started on the first night of the waning moon, and wouldn't be finished until the dark of the moon.

They searched high and low, but no potion and no ingredients turned up anywhere, not even in the hospital wing! It was ALL gone! Remus was in a panic, and Severus was in a fine rage that ANY one would DARE to steal from his stores! The only thing that was left to do by either irate wizard was to indulge in an extra-large snifter of brandy, and wait for the ladies to return.

It was nearly dawn, with that strange phenomena of pre-dawn lightening that happened before the re-darkening before the dawn, gloaming overhead before the ladies returned, sweating, with their bare feet grass stained as usual. Poppy tried her best to calm Severus, to no avail. He stomped off to his dungeon, black robe swirling around him fiercely.

Remus, on the other hand defeatedly trudged behind Poppy, Luna, and Hermione up to the hospital wing to check on Minerva, who was still in her cat form. Minerva appeared to be asleep, so they were discussing Remus' problem in hushed tones.

Remus said, "Severus says that even if we had every ingredient the potion requires, the timing is off by three weeks. It has to be started on the first night of the waning moon, and completed on the night of the dark of the moon. He might be the best Potions Master in England, but even HE can't turn back time. I'll have to get as far away from here as possible. The full moon is in one week, so I'll be leaving at first light."

Minerva stretched a slow, lazy cat stretch, licked her paw and proceeded to wash her face, before she let out a confusing series of meows, growls, and chuffs. Luna listened intently, and then translated, "Professor McGonagall says that Severus might not be able to turn back time, but for Hermione to help him this one time. Then she says, 'Upside down, three turns to the left; and right side up, seven turns to the right. You know the laws.' I'm quoting her exactly. Whatever does she mean, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled widely, and wrapped Remus in a bear hug, saying, "Don't you DARE leave! Professor McGonagall has just made the impossible, possible. You'll have your potion well before the full moon, and we'll need you at the battle to come. You go get some sleep, and we will prove it to you tomorrow." Then she quickly left, and rushed down the stairs to beard the Snark in his den.

She knocked firmly on Snapes' chamber door, which was swung open by a strange house elf. Strange because of the fine robes it wore with pride, and strange because she'd never encountered this particular house elf in all her years at Hogwarts. She made the proper bow, and introduced herself, "I'm Hermione Granger, to see Professor Snape, please."

The house elf returned her bow, then said, "My master's insupposed. Youse must come later, later," and promptly attempted to shut the door in Hermiones' face, only to be confounded by Hermiones' now bruised foot wedged into the crack of the door.

"Professor! Professor Snape, please let me come in! It's Hermione Granger, and I have a solution to Remus' problem," Hermione shouted over top of a very offended house elf's head through the crack of the door where her foot was becoming increasingly crushed.

"Gristle! Let Miss Granger in!" Severus snarled, in a very unwelcoming tone indeed. The house elf sniffed her indignation, but promptly obeyed, and opened the door.

"Thank you, Gristle," Hermione said through clenched teeth, as she hobbled into the sitting room. She looked around in appreciation of Snapes' taste in décor, not too stark, definitely not too fluffy. It seemed to her eyes to be just right. Under her breath she muttered, "Be careful Goldilocks, the bear might just be hungry!"

Severus was lounging back, looking entirely too human, with his white linen shirt sleeves and collar unbuttoned, exposing an expanse of ivory throat clear past his collarbone down his chest, where a smattering of fine black hairs were exposed. He held a brandy in his hand, which he set down on the low table in front of the black leather sofa as he swung his sock-feet down and stood up with her entrance. The scowl scrawled across his ill-tempered face was the only thing that spoiled this unexpected view of intimacy that Hermione found totally intriguing.

"And just what miracle cure do YOU have in mind for Lupin, Miss Granger? True love?" Severus snarled at Hermione, his unease at being caught in such a state of undress, and embarrassment of having the object of his increasingly intense desire being the one to catch him so, making him go on the attack before he could be hurt.

Hermione just ignored his hateful remark, and said, "No sir, not true love. That only happens in fairytales. However, you did say that if you could turn back time, you could re-brew the potion and have it before the full moon."

"And there's the rub, Miss Granger. It is IMPOSSIBLE to turn back time, therefore there will be no potion in time for the coming full moon," Severus replied snarkily, in the harsh tone he usually leveled at the more dense third years who didn't pay attention.

Hermione reached down, picked up the nearly empty brandy snifter, and tossed it back in a single fiery gulp. When she had finally quit coughing and spluttering, with the help of several firm claps on her back by Snape, she looked up into truly amused jet black eyes, and found one of those rare, genuine smiles curling one side of his lip up. He helped her to a seat on his sofa, took the opposite end for himself, and faced her in a much more convivial mood, ready to hear whatever solution her brilliant mind had devised.

When she had caught her breath, Hermione carefully asked him, "What if you COULD turn back time, sir? Could you spend three weeks in total hiding, with me tagging along as your helper?"

"You're talking about the Dark Arts, Miss Granger! Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time!" Severus responded in a shocked tone. "You've been spending too much time in the secret library in the Slytherin common-room, haven't you?"

"You mean there are SPELLS that can do it?" Hermione's mind had run off on a tangent. Then she said, "No sir," as she pulled a long golden chain out of the neckline of her simple, white robe, and showed it to him. "This is a Time-Turner. Professor McGonagall gave it to me my third year. It made it possible for me to take double classes every year."

Severus reached out with his long, ivory fingers to pull it towards him for a closer look, and before she'd thought it through, she slapped his hand away. Severus went open-mouthed in shock at her temerity, as he rubbed his stinging knuckles with his other hand.

Hermione went open-mouthed in horror that she'd actually STRUCK her teacher! And that it was none other than Professor Severus Snape! 'Sweet Merlin,' she thought, 'now you've done it, you stupid, stupid girl! He'll NEVER have you now!'

Seeking to salvage the situation, her face an amazing shade of crimson, she made her apologies, "Professor, I'm SO sorry! Please, sir, forgive me, I don't know what came over me! I STRUCK you! Just like you weren't my teacher! Just like you were one of the boys, and not my superior!" She was rattling on, not daring to even meet his eyes, or she would have seen the emotions running from outrage, to spite, to shock that for that one unguarded instant she'd considered him her contemporary.

Severus cleared his throat before he slowly growled in his amazing deep voice, "I accept your apology, Hermione," his tone making her very name a silky caress.

Hermione shot a startled glance at his unexpected use of her given name. It had sent a shiver down her spine to hear the way it rolled off his tongue. She'd always HATED her name, but sweet Circe! The way HE had said it, she could really grow to love it.

He continued with, "As we'll be in hiding, as well as in the past together for three weeks, I think it would be best if you were to call me Severus as well."

She licked her suddenly dry lips, not realizing what an invitation it unconsciously presented, and tried out his name, "Severus." She looked at him, and said it again, "Severus."

One ink dark eyebrow arched up, and he half-bowed to her, a smirk on his face. "That IS my name, Hermione," Severus purred her name again. Then they smiled at each other, and began to discuss what they might need to carry with them, and where exactly they could hide that a patrolling Poppy or Hagrid wouldn't come across them.

One very Slytherin-like idea of Hermiones' actually found merit to Severus' way of thinking. He summoned his personal house elf, "Gristle! Find the house elf, Dobby, and have him fetch Harry Potter down here."

Barely fifteen minutes had passed before a worried, disheveled Harry, still clad in his pajamas, presented himself at Snapes' chamber door with a loud knock. He was accompanied by Dobby, who wouldn't allow his Master Harry to go alone. They were admitted by Snapes' house elf, Gristle. Harry had never seen any house elf dressed so fine as Gristle, and he complimented her on her well-made robes, a complete, petite version of a teaching robe.

Gristle preened a bit, quite pleased to show off just how well HER Master provided for her, and she said, "Thank youse, Harry Potter. T'was Masters' last Chris'mast present to Gristle. Master always presents Gristle new clothes every Chris'mast, has since he was seventeen. Master ist good to Gristle."

Harry resolved then and there that if he lived through the coming battle, he'd do the same by Dobby. It also greatly impressed Harry. If Severus Snape could be a kind and generous master to a lowly house elf, something no-one else would know or care about, somewhere buried deep inside of him must be a good man.

Severus 'explained' about all the missing potions and ingredients, although to both Harry and Hermione it sounded more like 'complaining'. Hermione held up her Time Turner, and Harry instantly knew what her plan was. It was like they were Fred and George, so completely did their minds coincide!

"Dobby, go up to my room and fetch me the Marauders' Map, and my special cloak, please," said Harry. With a snap of his fingers, Dobby disappeared, only to 'pop' back in a matter of moments, the desired articles in his hand.

Harry handed the cloak to Severus, saying, "I know you'll keep this safe until you return it to me, again." He met the surprised look in Severus' eyes with a look of acknowledgement to let Snape know, without any words, that he was aware of just what Snape had done for him as a baby.

Then he spread out the Marauders' Map, which Snape recognized instantly from that night so long ago when he'd run into Harry while on patrol. Harry gave him a wink, drew out his wand, tapped the parchment, and repeated the charm, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" Both Severus and Hermione stared in fascination, as the map of Hogwarts and the locations of everyone in it slowly appeared. Harry then said with another touch of his wand, "Mischief Managed!" and all the ink drained away back into the parchment.

"The map never lies. It will show you where every one is all the time, and what they're doing. There are three secret passageways into Hogsmeade village. The One-eyed Witches' Tunnel comes out in the cellar of Honeydukes, that's directly across from Sluggs and Dribbles, for easier access to get your potion ingredients," Harry said. "Never forget to close the map with 'mischief managed' when you are done, or any one can read it."

Harry rose to his feet and gave Hermione a fierce hug. "Good luck, 'Mione. Take care," he said, and then he left going back up to his room to attempt to go back to sleep, taking Dobby with him.

Hermione asked Severus, "Are you ready to go?" Severus rose to tower over her, and slipped the map into his pocket. Gristle popped back, and said loudly, "If Master goes, Gristle goes too! Gristle must take care of Master, and Lady!"

Severus gave Hermione a wry grin, at the over-protective house elfs' behavior. Then he held out an ivory long-fingered hand, which she took, and led her towards his bedroom. He paused briefly to pass her Harrys' cloak, and to pick up his wand, eyeing his bed surreptitiously now that the object of so many vivid dreams was actually in close proximity to it. He sighed regretfully, giving himself a small shake.

He led her past his bed, where he took a mental note of the fact that she, too, had glanced at it speculatively. He opened the door to his private bath and turned left to face a huge mirror set into an ebony frame carved with ancient runes. Then he pulled out an ornate penknife, which he sharpened his quills, and cut a tiny place on one of his beautiful fingers. He made sure the blood was flowing freely, then ran the wounded finger over the runes.

Hermione had seen no visible change to the mirror itself, but Severus promptly stepped through it. Holding out the not bleeding hand, he looked at her and said with a grin, "Coming, Alice?"

Without hesitation, she grabbed hold of his hand and let herself be pulled through the looking glass.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Once again, I am not J. K. Rowling, and have no rights to any of her characters, or world. This is an AU, so anything not canon PLEASE bear with me, and see where my AU takes you. This chapter is strictly SS/HG, and I suggest at LEAST a rating of M; Harsh language, sexual and drug allusions. Well, let's get down to it, shall we?

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Chapter Nine: Through the Looking-Glass Darkly; or The Serpents' Garden

Hermione felt the cold, slimy stones beneath her bare feet and smelled stale, musty, ancient air, since she couldn't SEE anything—and clutched Severus' hand tighter. He immediately cast 'Lumos', his wand held aloft like a candle to light their way. She drew her wand, and matched his 'Lumos'. There was no telling WHAT might be clinging to these floors, and she didn't want to find out the hard way.

"Watch your step, this staircase can be tricky," Severus said, as he led the way down. There was water dripping in-between the stones in several places, and long, trailing spider-webs here and there that brushed their faces and arms. They finally reached a passageway where the torches embedded into the thick, stone walls became self-lighting as they passed, just like the unused upper floors that she'd explored with Harry and Ron their very first year at Hogwarts.

Several of the massive, wooden doors they passed had cobra heads carved into them, and hissed at them as they passed by. Severus warned her sternly, "Never attempt to enter these rooms, Hermione. What is in them might not let you leave. Some Dark Magickals are better left alone, and vampires that haven't eaten in years are among them."

She swallowed hard, and nodded her agreement vigorously as she stepped even closer to him. She thought, 'I KNOW he's not snickering at ME!' But she was too intelligent to make a fuss about it right now, still sticking as closely to him as she could in what TRULY were the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Finally they reached a point where the passageway dead-ended, veering to the left and the right. Severus turned left, pulling Hermione along with him, and they began to climb up a spiral staircase. Stopping at the first landing they came to, instead of climbing the rest of the stairs, Severus led the way towards a set of massive mahogany doors, laced with distinctively Moorish carvings, and mounted in the style of ancient Andalusia.

He pulled a thick silver chain out of his open shirt collar. An intricate silver snakehead with a protruding forked tongue dangled from it, and at her questioning look, he explained, "Not everyone speaks Parsel-tongue, Hermione. Salazar also left a manual key to his personal chambers, and it has been passed down for almost a thousand years only to the Head of Slytherin House. These chambers were meant to stand as refuge of last resort, in the event that Hogwarts was ever taken over by hostile forces."

With the insertion of the tongue of the serpent into the guardian snake-head keyhole, the massive door slowly creaked open to allow them entrance. Hermione was both entranced by the beauty of the room before her, as it was perfectly preserved living history, and repelled by the fact that she could find ANYTHING of Salazar Slytherins' attractive. Then she glanced up at Severus through her thick, black eyelashes, and thought, 'Well, make that two things of Slytherins' that's attractive.'

Severus suddenly scooped her up into a pair of strong arms, and strode across the threshold like a bridegroom. At her frightened gasp, he quirked a wry grin and snarkily said, "Just in case the door refuses to let a Gryffindor in", and dropped her like a hot brick as soon as he was three feet into the chamber. He walked over to a fireplace large enough to roast an ox in, and pointed his wand, exclaiming, "Incendare!" A nicely roaring fire burst into lovely orange and red flames, quickly knocking the chill from where the rooms had been held in cold stasis for nearly a thousand years.

Hermione was genuinely cold, so she wasted no time with the required inspection of and compliments on the ancient chambers, but went over straightway to warm herself before the fire. Severus secured the huge outer door, and paused as he turned back towards the blazing fire to admire the clear outline of Hermiones' body, exposed as she stood between the firelight and where he stood. He couldn't help himself, and thought, 'Sweet Circe! What a beautiful body she has! Severus, you old pervert! She is trusting in you to protect her while here, and that includes protection from YOU!'

Still, he walked ever so slowly back to stand beside her and warm himself, admiring the view with every step. She turned innocent eyes to him and asked, "Where will we sleep? And what will we wear, or eat?" As another more personal thought suddenly crossed her mind, she added in hushed tones, "And WHERE is the bathroom?"

Severus reddened slightly, and said, "I'll go and look. But food and clothing will be easy to acquire as Gristle came with us." He loudly called, "Gristle!" She instantly 'popped' beside them, and answered, "Yes, Master?" Severus spoke in a more kindly tone to his house elf, "Gristle, please check the attics for some clothes for the lady and myself. After that, a small meal for two would be nice." The house elf bowed to her Master, and left with the familiar 'pop'.

Hermione pulled a stool over to the hearth, and perched upon it, as Severus left to inspect the inner rooms. It was quite a few minutes before he returned to her side. He took a seat on the elaborate carpet beside her little stool, and let out a long suffering sigh. She looked down into his eyes, something that had rarely happened to him since he had passed six feet in height at the age of fifteen, and asked, "Well?"

"There is only one bedchamber, and only one bed, Hermione. You can have the bed, and I'll take the floor. The carpets are nice and thick. It shouldn't be too bad," Severus said with another sigh, before continuing, "and as for a bathroom, there is only one of those also. It's large enough for a harem to bathe in at the same time. There are 'facilities' also. It's through that doorway there." He pointed to the right.

Hermione rose to her feet, and excused herself to find the loo. As she followed the self-lighting torches, she came to the bedchamber first. "Sweet Merlin!" she exclaimed as she first caught sight of Salazar Slytherins' bed. It HAD to be at least nine feet long, and seven feet wide! The four bedposts were probably two feet thick, and carved into the now familiar serpent symbols, and they were easily eight feet tall. The bed-hangings were of fine, rich, deep green velvet, lined in silver-colored silk so fine and sheer that you could read through it. Beautiful Andalusian tapestries covered the walls, and statues from ancient Egypt of the Old Gods and Goddesses stood in places of honor. There, in one corner, was piled a multitude of colorful silk pillows, and near to them stood a magnificent hookah of a wonderous shade of deep blue, with fittings of ornately molded silver. All in all, the room looked like a cross between a sultans' harem, and Aladdins' cave. She was duly impressed, and could have kicked Severus AND his 'gift' of understatement.

She really had to 'go', and so couldn't really stop and give everything the proper amount of 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing that it truly deserved, so she hurried through a definitely Moorish archway where Severus had thoughtfully left the hanging oil lamps burning for her. After she'd answered her 'call of nature', she DID pause to admire various items that had caught her eye. The massive bed seemed comfortable. Why, both of them could sleep in it and never even TOUCH each other! She said aloud, "It'd serve him right if I DID make him sleep on the floor! What a prat!"

Severus was leaning against the archway of the bedchamber door, smiling at her, as she heard his chuckle and turned to look at him. "Well, Alice? Will the Wonderland ever cease to amaze?"

She shook her head, dumbfounded at how relaxed and pleasing a personality he exuded here. This side of Severus Snape she could REALLY learn to love. LOVE?!? Where on earth had THAT come from? 'I must be more tired than I'd realized', she told herself. 'Yes, that's got to be it, exhaustion would explain it all!'

Severus levered himself off the archway, and said, "Are you hungry? Gristle is back, and has laid out a nice little supper for two. If you don't at least make an effort to eat a bite or two, you'll hurt her feelings."

Hermione gave herself a mental shake, and nodded as she said, "I could go for a little nosh," and followed him back into the main room. There was a low Middle Eastern table and cushions to sit upon. It was laid out with various delicious-smelling items, and two places set up, complete with two heavy crystal flutes filled with a light, sparkling white wine.

She looked inquiringly at him, and he flushed a bit as he explained, "I've never allowed a woman to spend an extended amount of time in my private quarters. I think Gristle either has the wrong idea about our situation, or she's trying to play the 'matchmaker'. I'll set her straight." But as he drew in a breath to summon the well-meaning house elf, Hermione forestalled him with a gentle hand on his arm. "She meant well, Severus. It's okay," Hermione softly said, taking her seat, and beginning to fill her plate.

Severus didn't say another word. He COULDN'T. She had robbed him of his speech with that gentle touch, and kind smile. It had been soVERY long since any witch had touched him voluntarily. He meekly took his place across from her, and took a sip of his wine, wishing at that moment that it was something stronger, and quietly began to fill his plate also.

After they'd eaten their fill, and split almost the whole bottle of wine between them, Severus had excused himself for his own 'call of nature'. This gave Hermione a chance to explore and admire the Great Room they'd first come into, and dined in. She sighed, "I just wish I could find fault with something, anything, but dammit! It's PERFECT! Damn Salazar Slytherin and his good taste! Well, I don't care for the 'snake theme', but aside from that, it's just perfect!"

When Severus returned, he was wearing a flowing silk caftan, and the loose-fitting trousers of an Arabian sheik. "Don't laugh!" he snarled through gritted teeth. "Your attire isn't any better, unless it's your fantasy to be the star of the harem! I've REALLY got to have a long talk with Gristle."

Hermione stared at him all agog. 'Surely he's joking,' she thought as she went to change her robe. Sadly he wasn't. The flimsy silks now draping her supple form left VERY little to the imagination, but they were soft, and comfortable, and she WAS very tired. The huge bed had been thoughtfully turned down, and the sheets warmed with an elfin spell. She crawled up onto it, and stretched a very cat-like stretch, unaware of the glittering black eyes observing her every movement.

Severus cleared his throat to announce his presence, before crossing the room to retrieve him a pillow and piece of cover. "Severus," she called drowsily, "where are you going?"

"I'll be fine over here on these cushions," he answered in all seriousness. Hermione stopped him with a chuckle, and said, "Don't be silly, Severus. This bed is big enough to hold the entire Weasley clan! Come to bed!" And so without further argument, Severus Snape crawled for the first time into bed with Hermione Granger.

It must have been mid-afternoon. Severus drifted in and out of the warmest, most comfortable sleep of his entire life. Something kept tickling his nose, feather-like, and smelling of apples, honey, and fresh mown grass. Whatever it was, he'd decided he rather liked it. He snuggled closer to the source of warmth. It was soft, but firm, and pleasingly pressed against where he was hard as a rock, and he gently ground against it. His right hand lazily squeezed, and with that sensation, he jolted completely awake. Great gods! He was 'spooned' up against Hermione Granger! 'How do you explain this, Severus? She'll never understand! She'll think, quite rightly so, that you're a disgusting, dirty old man!' Severus' thoughts were racing, right along with his pounding heart.

She gave the softest little snore, and wriggled her soft, firm bum where it was pressed against his aching groin, nearly blowing all of his sudden chivalrous thinking. He very slowly, very carefully, eased his hand from her breast, and the rest of his lanky body away from the heaven of hers. As soon as he'd gently negotiated the expanse of his side of the bed, and his bare feet had hit the cold flagstone floor, he ran from the room like Dementors were on his arse!

Hermione was smiling as she gave another cat-like stretch, and climbed out of bed. She went to relieve herself, humming a little to herself, as she thought, 'Well, well! I guess there won't be a problem 'taking one for the team', after all!' She ran her fingers through the tangled mass of her hair, and suddenly an antique silver comb appeared on the marble wash stand in front of a polished bronze mirror. There must have been a spell on the comb, because for the first time EVER her unruly tumble of frizz fell into smooth, shiny ringlets. She stood up, and ran smoothing hands over the diaphanous silks covering her body, admiring what Severus must have seen. She felt very womanly, and quite wanton, and couldn't WAIT to make Severus Snape squirm!

She walked into the Great Room, to find Severus seated again at the low table where a simple breakfast of rolls, fruit, and coffee were waiting. "Good morning, Severus! Sleep well?" Hermione asked him cheerfully, coming over to take her seat. He looked up, and did a 'spit-take', spewing his sip of coffee out in an embarrassed gush. He'd always thought her to be attractive in her own way, but DAMN! He'd never realized just what a BEAUTY she'd grown up to be!

Hermione smiled serenely, and passed him a linen napkin, as she re-filled his cup before pouring one for herself, and replacing the silver coffee pot on its' warming burner. She calmly added a generous dollop of cream, and stirred her cup before taking her first sip. "Mmm! This is delicious! You must be sure to tell Gristle," she re-addressed Severus, who had by now recovered his composure. For his part, he'd decided that if she didn't mind showing it; he SURELY didn't mind looking at it, and was openly admiring the outline of her nipples through the taut silk that barely covered them.

"Severus? Are you listening to me? Severus!" Hermione interrupted his very naughty thoughts with her insistence. "Hmmm?" he mumbled in answer. She smiled a wicked little smile, and arched her back in an unnecessary stretch that caused his mouth to go dry, and gape openly, just like Ron's around Fleur. "Severus, are you ready?" she whispered, in what she hoped was a seductive tone.

'Merlin's Balls! Am I ready? I'm so ready; I could spread you out right here!' Severus thought to himself, as he mentally counted just how many steps there were between here, and that wonderfully massive bed they'd so recently vacated.

Hermione cleared her throat, deciding that she'd tortured him enough, especially since she had no intentions of carrying this further right now. "Severus, my eyes are up here!" she exclaimed, plaintively. "Are you ready for us to go back in time, and brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus?"

Severus came back to reality with a thud. 'The Wolfsbane Potion. For Remus. That werewolf's the only reason she's here with YOU at all, idiot,' he told himself harshly. But aloud he snarked, "I'm ready whenever you are, HERMIONE. After all it's YOUR Time Turner, not mine. But I'd suggest you put on some clothes on first," indicating his own shirt, now buttoned up, his usual black trousers, socks, and boots, with a pertinent wave of his long-fingered hand, and using the tone with which he pronounced her name to insult her.

Hermione was taken aback. 'Where on earth had THAT come from? Things were going so well, now THIS!' she thought, but aloud she smarted back, "And just WHERE should I look for clothing, my trunk? Oh yes, that's right, I haven't got one have I?"

Severus' jet black eyes widened, and both eyebrows shot upwards nearly touching his raven-black widows' peak. She could see it coming, but there was no where to hide! "Really, Miss Granger! It's a simple transfiguration spell that any half-competent fourth-year should be able to perform, much less an insufferable know-it-all like YOU!" Severus said in the most sadistic tone in his arsenal. "While you work on that, I must fetch several things from my quarters that we might need."

Hermione's wide brown stare was full of hurt, but since he was already nearly to the outer door, he failed to see it. After the door had been slammed with a reverberating 'thud', the key had been scraped in the lock, and the click-click-click of his boots on the stairway had faded away, Hermione burst into tears.

"There, there, my Lady," crooned Gristle, who had popped in just as this happened. "Master din't means it. Master likes my Lady, Gristle can tell. I's been Masters' every since he's ist borned. I's 'twas Masters naming-day present, from Mummy's Dad." The house elf passed her a white linen napkin from the breakfast tray, and gave her a comforting pat on her back.

This unexpected kindness, of course, only served to make Hermione sob even harder. Poor Gristle was beside herself, not knowing what to do to comfort Masters' Lady. 'Twas something about the clothes, that much she understood. My Lady must have better clothes, then she would please Master, and then My Lady would not cry. Gristle 'popped' out, and returned moments later to say, "Come, My Lady, Gristle ist haves My Lady's bath ready. 'Twill make My Lady feel better!"

Hermione gave her a watery smile, wiped at her eyes with the napkin, and followed her back past the bed, which she stole a glance at, and began to cry softly again. Gristle wouldn't listen to her protests of being perfectly capable of bathing herself, but helped pull the wilting silks over Hermione's head, and proceeded to pin up the honey-brown curls with a magical sticking charm. Hermione sighed a shuddering breath, and gave up. Gristle helped her into what could better be called a mini-swimming pool, than a bathtub, full of jasmine-scented bubbles.

Hermione allowed herself to be lathered, scrubbed, rubbed, and rinsed. It was the toweling off where she drew the line. This independence Gristle gave her, as well as providing the most beautiful, emerald-green velvet, antique robe, embroidered with golden lions rampant, encircled by protective silver serpents. Its' elegance took Hermione's breath away. There were matching embroidered slippers, and a medieval under-dress of heavy ivory silk, edged with golden lace at the neckline and around the wrists.

After she was dressed, with her hair combed out into ringlets again, Gristle presented her with a silver-serpent diadem that held a shilling-size amber tigers-eye stone between its' fangs, protruding wadjet-like in the center. It fit exactly over her 'third eye', as if it had been made to fit only her.

When she looked at herself in the polished bronze mirror, even with the distortion factor, she was amazed. "I look just like the princess in a fairytale!" she whispered to herself. Hermione straightened her backbone, and squared her shoulders. THIS was just what she'd needed to restore her confidence. "Thank you, Gristle! It's BEAUTIFUL!" she exclaimed, and gave the startled house elf a fierce hug, and a huge smile. "Thank you, thank you, and thank you!"

Gristle had a tear in her over-sized elfin eyes also. 'Master best like My Lady when Master come back,' thought Gristle, 'or Gristle will be mos' cross with Master!'

It was probably an hour before Severus returned. He was attired in his usual black frock coat, with its myriad of tiny black buttons, black trousers, socks, and boots. He'd obviously found time to take a shower, as well as retrieve his black leather potions traveling-case, and a set of Hagrid's clothes.

The first thing he saw as he re-entered Salazar's chambers was a fire-fairy princess seated on a stool, a crackling fire burning cheerily behind her, that looked strangely like Hermione Granger. He felt like he'd just taken a bludger to the chest! He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even feel his heart beating! 'Oh yes, 'thump', there it is,' he thought as it suddenly fell back into his chest, from where it had jumped into his throat at the sight she presented.

Hermione smiled up into his sanguine features as if nothing untoward had ever happened earlier. "Now are we ready to go, Severus?" she calmly asked, twirling her long, golden chain around and around in the air in front of her.

Severus tried to answer her, Merlin, did he try! It was just that nothing would come out! After a couple of tries, which made him look rather like a freshly caught trout gasping on the bank, he finally managed to croak out somewhat of an apology for his earlier behavior. He then nodded. Hermione climbed up on the stool, and motioned for him to come stand closer to her, then she summoned Gristle—who was pleased that Master seemed to like My Lady now—and threw the chain around the three of them.

"Upside down, three times left; right-side up, seven times right," Hermione said softly under her breath, as she set the Time Turner, and gave it the 'ping' it needed to start spinning. The three of them were encircled in a sphere of golden light, while all around them seemed to be a swirling black void, empty of even space and time. Strangely, for them there was no sensation of movement, just the instant re-lighting of the magical torches as they were suddenly thrust out into the chamber of three weeks ago.

Hermione lifted her golden chain from around Severus' neck, tucked it back into the safety of the cleft of her breasts, and then she hopped down off the little stool. She watched silently as Severus sat his potions case onto the low table, and opened it. His long, deft fingers went straightway to the particular bottle he sought. One corner of his lip curled up in self-derision as he met her questioning gaze, and he answered her unasked question with the quip, "Essence of Hagrid." He picked up the bundle of Hagrids' clothes, along with the bottle of Poly-Juice Potion, and strode off towards the bathroom.

After several long moments had passed, a rather surly-looking Hagrid stomped back to stand in front of Hermione. "Well, will I do?" Severus snarled. She looked up at him, and said in all seriousness, "Not with that scowl and grumpy tone. Also try to raise your pitch, your voice is too deep to be Hagrids'. And try to not act the misanthrope! Hagrid truly likes people, and you can't break character, or someone will notice."

"Is that quite ALL, Hermione?" Severus growled, scowling even more darkly with Hagrids' face, standing arms and feet akimbo. He pulled out the Marauders' Map, and intoned with a tap of his wand, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The map unfolded, and gave up its' secrets. Hagrid was just leaving his cottage to care for the magical creatures that he considered to be his responsibility. Poppy seemed to be having tea in Minervas' sitting room with her. The coast was clear for the trip into Hogsmeade village.

Hermione followed Severus/Hagrid up the rest of the spiraling staircase to where stood embedded into the thick stone wall, an ancient wood and iron door. Severus stretched out both hands and murmured a sub-vocal spell, and a blue-white light resembling 'lumos' shot from his fingertips. The ancient door slowly unbarred itself, and creaked open with an agonizingly slow scrape. She whispered in awe, almost to herself, "You really CAN work wandless magic!"

Severus/Hagrid smiled at her, and stepped in front of her as the door finally swung open. He stepped out into the afternoon sun, and turned aside to watch her reaction to her very first glimpse of The Serpents' Garden.

The gasp of pleased amazement and shining amber eyes, glittering in wonder, were all he could have hoped for. He strode down the white pebble pathway, to stand in the round center of a mosaic of the crescent moon and evening star. "Wait for me here, please Hermione," he said, indicating a stone bench, sitting in a rose covered arbor, which faced an attractive fountain that bubbled and sprayed up rainbow-hued perfumed water.

Before she could make any reply, he was gone! He had disapparated! On Hogwarts grounds, there were not supposed to be ANY Apparation Points! It was ILLEGAL! It was also highly Slytherin. She should have realized that Salazar Slytherin wouldn't play by the rules. After all, he HAD put the basilisk into the Chamber of Secrets, and that had nearly cost both Harry and Ginny their lives.

Hermione decided to explore this oasis, for that was what this garden was. It seemed to be full of all the mystery and wonder of ancient Arabia, just like what she imagined the private gardens of a sultan's palace would be like. It was even surrounded by highly-polished stone crenellated walls and two towers, but with no outer gate to be found anywhere.

She didn't know whether to feel protected, or a prisoner. Everywhere she looked there were fig, apple, pear, and pomegranate trees, blood-orange and lime trees, and rare, exotic flowers, and herbs of all types. Tall date palms shaded her from over-head, and somehow she could have sworn that she felt a warm, desert breeze wafting by, only to be instantly cooled by the sprays of that incredible fountain.

She smiled, did a merry little twirl, and said aloud, "I MUST be Alice, because all of this is definitely Wonderland!" Of all the times he could have selected to 'Apparate' back into The Serpents' Garden, Severus/Hagrid chose that EXACT moment, and caught the joyously giggling Hermione in mid-twirl. Something near the center of his chest that felt dangerously like his heart began a strange tingling sensation. "It must be indigestion,' he thought to himself, but for the life of him he couldn't help but smile along with her. "Well? How did the shopping go? Were you able to acquire every thing we will need?" Hermione asked in a rush. "And please, Severus, PLEASE say that I may assist you in the laboratory. I've MISSED my classes with you. You always were my favorite teacher."

"Stop boot-licking! I will consider it, Hermione," Severus said, pain pulling at Hagrids' features as the Poly-Juice Potion began to wear off, "but I've always tended to work better alone." He began to stagger with his giants' strides to the safety of their chambers' bathroom before the transformation back was complete. That would have left him awkwardly embarrassed, caught like a child playing 'dress-up' in his fathers' clothes. She started after him, and he waved her back, snarling, "By all the gods, Hermione! Allow me a little privacy for the re-transfiguration!" He gave another pained convulsion, and clutched the increasingly too large clothes tighter around his form, as he struggled on down the staircase. She stopped, and waited long enough that the self-lighting torches had begun to flare to life.

Hermione decided that it had been a sufficient passage of time, and that it should be safe to return to their chambers. She entered the Great Room, to find Gristle whistling off-key and laying out a supper for two. "Ah, there you are, My Lady. Masters' insupposed for a bit longer. I's drawn hims bath. Be out in moments, says he," said Gristle. "May Gristle wash My Lady's hands and face?" She was holding up a ruby-red glass bowl of scented water for Hermione to use as a lavatory. Hermione dutifully washed her face and hands, and the bowl disappeared in a twinkle, to be replaced by a fluffy white towel for her to dry off on.

Gristle was about to 'pop off' to where ever it was that house elves 'popped off' to, when Hermione stopped her to ask a favor, "Gristle,?" The house elf looked up at her and answered, "Yes, My Lady?" Hermione cleared her throat, and bent down to whisper into the large elfin ear, "Gristle, could you find me something a little less . . . revealing, to sleep in tonight? And something not quite so elaborate for tomorrow, so I'll be dressed to help Master brew the potion that we came here to do."

Gristle looked like she was about to burst into tears, so Hermione gave her a swift, tight hug, and said, "Not that everything you've brought me so far hasn't been simply lovely! I LOVE this robe," lifting up the sides of robe, and dropping a graceful curtsy to Gristle. "Where ever did you find it?"

Gristle sniveled, and wiped her nose on the edge of her sleeve. "My Lady ist not angry with the clothes Gristle hast brung? What would please My Lady?" Hermione felt like she'd just pulled the wings off a butterfly, so hurt did Gristle appear. But she didn't want to push Severus too far, and frankly she was just the teensiest bit afraid of her OWN inclinations to pull closer than what she maybe should.

"Well, the way this under-gown is made is quite comfortable. If you could find me something similarly made, in a thin cotton, or silk, if you prefer. That would be acceptable night wear, with maybe a thicker robe to wear over it to keep out the chill. And just a simple set of day-robes, suitable for my helping in Masters' laboratory. I would be ever so grateful," Hermione said, as she reasoned it out for herself.

Gristle slowly nodded her understanding, and smiled at Hermione before she 'popped out.' Hermione just sighed. There was no way of telling just what the helpful house elf would decide was 'appropriate' nightwear for her to 'model' for Severus later tonight. She took her place at the low table, carefully arranging her elaborate robes. At least she'd have this final evening of the wonderful robes' use, to try to impress Severus. Hermione had been completely unaware of him standing in the shadows at the entrance to the bedchamber; or of his careful taking in of the entire exchange between his personal house elf, and this beautiful witch, who had been his most-prized student.

Severus entered the Great Room, and took his seat across from Hermione, and in a single, graceful motion achieved the 'lotus' position. "Good evening, Hermione." He held up a hand to forestall the typical rush of questions that he could read forming on her lips. "Yes, my mission was successful, and we now have everything to begin the potion tonight. Yes, I would appreciate your assistance in the laboratory, however bear in mind that I am, as you said yourself, a misanthropic, sarcastic, arrogant bastard extraordinaire. You'll need to shelve any tendencies towards pouting, or teary-eyed outbursts, and I believe we'll deal well together."

Hermione indignantly proclaimed, "I've never in my LIFE referred to you in those words, Professor Snape! You take that back!" Her cheeks were suffused ochre-red with self-righteousness, her topaz eyes dancing with cherry-amber flames.

Severus lifted an eyebrow with a sardonic quirk, and gave her a wry grin, saying as he did so, "Not verbally, no. But you've thought it on more than one occasion, as I recall, Miss Granger." He stressed her proper name, just as she had done his.

Hermione had the grace to blush, in honest embarrassment, before a thought suddenly hit her that she wanted him to clarify. "You can read MINDS? Without the other person being 'Legillimized'?" she asked in amazement of Severus' abilities. 'Who ever said that Severus' powers were not up to par, couldn't have known the wizard I'm beginning to know,' Hermione thought to herself.

"I've never felt the need for ostentatious display just to 'boost' my ego, Hermione," Severus answered her question, without making any admission. "I'm NOT Guilderoy Lockhart, but who else is? To my way of thinking, every person should know their own abilities and fallacies. Why forewarn your enemies, and give them the opportunity to counter-act your strong suits, or to master your areas of weakness?"

They'd been consuming their meal while they'd been talking, and they both were beginning to feel that strange pull toward one another that seemed to get stronger the later night progressed. Hermione had been secretly pleased to learn that Severus had something of a 'sweet-tooth'. They'd finished their dinner with a chocolate torte and coffee, and she couldn't stop her eyes from hanging on the every motion of his tongue, as he slowly licked his dessert fork clean. His lip did the 'curl-up' thing that was beginning to grow on her, and he purred, "Hermione, my eyes are up here."

She blushed again, and rose to her feet when he did. "We'll be using Salazar Slytherins' personal laboratory. As you like history and antiques so well, you should be in absolute heaven. I'm sure I'll be in absolute hades, attempting so precise and complicated a potion with arcane and obscure equipment—but such is the price we must pay for your precious werewolf." He finished in his most sarcastic tone, but he HAD smiled as he said it, so she chose to look on things in the positive. After all, it was so very rarely that he said more than ten words together at a time, when he wasn't teaching, or pissed off, that is.

Salazars' laboratory was located in the corner tower of The Serpents' Garden, and Hermione wondered just how she could have missed seeing it that afternoon. Severus answered before she could ask, "The doorway is invisible in sun light, and obscure in the light of the full moon. The only time it is completely visible is when the sky is darkest." He used the silver snake-key again on a nearly impossible to see keyhole.

"Circe, you must have the vision of a cat, Severus! I couldn't even see the latch, much less find the keyhole," Hermione breathed, not realizing she'd spoken aloud. He chuckled deep in his chest, and his next words stunned her. "I might have the cats' eyes, but YOU had its' tail," he laughed at her. Sweet Merlin! Severus Snape had just cracked a joke!

Hermione had a flash-back. Her faux-pas with the Poly-Juice Potion in her second year, when he had stormed into the hospital wing, and raged at her, "Miss Granger, WHAT were you thinking? FIFTY points deducted from Gryffindor for the illegal brewing, and consuming, of a Restricted Advanced Potion, AND two weeks detention scrubbing cauldrons WITHOUT magic as soon as you are recovered!"

He had continued to berate her for several more long minutes, and she'd gotten more ticked with each syllable he uttered. She hadn't even realized what she was doing. He'd laughed, before turning the chuckle into a cough, and saying, "And ten points awarded TO Gryffindor for giving me the gift of amusement when I most needed it, Miss Granger." This time she'd felt it, her tail. Her tail was swishing back and forth, as wildly as Cruikshanks' ever had.

This time, she saw the humor in the situation for herself, and joined Severus in a good laugh at her expense. They entered into Salazars' laboratory, and Severus lit the many-candled heavy iron chandelier dangling so massively overhead. "Luminatus," he said with a flick of his wand. There they stood in a pristine, medieval alchemists' chamber.

The equipment was of the highest caliber for its' time, and even though it would be considered out-moded, everything still appeared to be functional and recognizable—if you looked past all the unnecessary elaborate filigree-work that embellished everything. Severus began unbuttoning his frock coat, removed it, and hung it neatly on an iron hook near the door. He then unbuttoned his shirt collar and cuffs to free his movement up. Hermione was still staring around in her fascinated, and to him fascinating, manner.

He walked over to a cupboard near where she was exploring and opened it, to reveal a golden cauldron. It might have been priceless history, but the weight of it! Were it melted down into galleons, the value would have exceeded the tens of thousands! Severus levitated it out, and up onto the brazier they would be using.

He began a sub-vocalized chant, and added pure water from the sacred spring of Nimue. He was actually shaking now with his verbalizing the ancient Latin of the spell. Next with swirling gestures, Severus added the Wolfsbane, laurel leaves, grated sandalwood, and poppy petals, and the brazier was wand-lit to begin the brewing. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he began to chant again, passing his hands with their wandless magicks glowing, in the prescribed gestures that went back to the very beginning of time. For the very first time, Hermione saw Severus with the eyes of an adult woman, and realized that she honestly liked what she saw; a dark god of a wizard!

Hermione was trying to not even breathe, so as to not break his intense concentration, as she followed along with his gestures and the words that she could barely make out. The cauldron had finally come to a slow, even simmer. Severus backed away from it, and sighed in exhaustion; every tensed muscle suddenly releasing him, leaving him limp. She passed him a handkerchief, that she hadn't even realized was up her sleeve, and he gave her a terse, "Thank you," as he wiped the beads of perspiration from his sallow, drained face. Severus couldn't resist, and snarkily asked, "What an anti-climax, isn't it?"

"You mean that's IT?" Hermione exclaimed, annoyance etched into her very posture. "And I didn't even get to help!" He was growing tired of these outbursts of hers, he decided, but he still counted to ten before responding, "No, that's not ALL there is to it, Hermione. It's just all required for the first night of brewing. Trust me, there still will be PLENTY for you to do."

"As long as it's not scrubbing the cauldrons without using magic, I'm fine," she answered him with a grin, reminding him of his former favorite punishment. He raised his eyebrow, and cracked back with, "It won't be, Hermione, unless you rub me the wrong way."

She gave him such a look, and thought, 'You mean there is actually a RIGHT way to rub you?' He inclined his head as he answered her thoughts, "Oh yes, there are several ways to 'rub me the right way', Hermione." He growled her name, and flashed her a wicked smile straight from Draco's repertoire. That started her worrying for the very first time, about living in such close quarters with a full-grown man, and such a MAN at that! It also shut her up, which had been his goal—even though it HAD been a most heartfelt truth on his part.

They descended the staircase together, each thinking their own thoughts, but reaching the same conclusion so closely attuned were their minds on the subject. Severus remained in the Great Room, where Gristle had fetched him a large snifter of his favorite brandy. He enjoyed a relaxing drink as much as the next man, but he made it a point to never over-indulged in alcohol. His own fathers' alcoholism, and downward spiral, had made Severus a wealthy wizard as the inventor of, and patent holder to, the 'Sober-Up Solution' at the age of twenty. 'Too bad it had come five years after the old mans' death,' thought Severus bitterly. 'It might have made a difference in our relationship—if you could've even called it a relationship.'

Meanwhile Hermione had slipped into the bathroom to find a pale willow-green nightdress trimmed with the softest ivory lace, so delicately tatted that it resembled spider-webbing. A dark gold brocade over-robe was hanging near it, and again there were matching slippers of the same brocade. After she'd finished her ablutions, including 'scourgifing' her teeth, she undressed and slipped into her 'new' nightwear. Her head felt so much lighter without the heavy diadem, and she combed out her hair with the silver comb as her final part of preparing for bed.

She re-entered the Great Room to find Severus nursing a brandy, staring morosely into a low-burning, crackling fire in the massive stone fireplace that he was leaning upon. He must have spelled himself into his nightwear while she was in the bathroom. He was dressed the most casually Hermione had EVER seen him, clad all in black as was his custom, but it was a form-hugging cotton tee-shirt and loose-fitting mens' yoga pants. His pale feet were bare.

She stared at them unable to meet his eyes, and realized that he had truly beautiful feet. They were long, with just the right width to balance them out, and had the most delicately high-instep she'd ever seen on a man. She tried her best to not stare at his left inner forearm, because that was where he bore his Dark Mark. She didn't even want to think about that, choosing instead to believe that he finally felt comfortable enough with her that he'd decided to expose all that he was to her.

Hermione cleared her throat, and his haunted eyes turned to meet her accepting eyes. "Have you ever wished you could change your past, Hermione?" Severus asked. 'That was certainly unexpected,' she thought, but aloud she answered, "Of course I have, Severus. I expect everyone has, at some time, wished that they could go back and do some things differently. But I've always been taught that it's as much peoples' mistakes, as it is their triumphs, that make them into the person that they finally become."

Severus looked at her in disbelief, then spitefully asked, "And just WHERE did that quaint little homily come from, Miss Granger?" She swallowed hard several times, holding back the tears that had instantly welled up in her eyes, and finally she choked out, "From my father, you sick BASTARD!" And to his shocked amazement, she promptly burst into tears, great gulping sobs racking her whole body, her hands covering both eyes.

He threw his brandy, glass and all, into the fire causing a sudden flare up, as he crossed the space between them in three strides to engulf her in a firm, but tender embrace. There seemed to be no calming her down, much to Severus' distress. He scooped her up, and strode in over to the bed, laid her down gently, and went to fetch a Calming Draught for her from his potions case. She at first refused to let him 'dope her up', as nearly as he could understand from her broken speech. But finally she took several small sips from the bottle of potion he was pressing insistently against her lips.

Hermione refused to let go of Severus' hand, and so it was that Severus Snape crawled for the second time into bed with Hermione Granger. He propped his back up with several pillows against the thick, carved rose-wood headboard, and pulled her up against his chest tightly. It was a strange new sensation for both of them.

No-one else had ever curled so tightly against him, seeking a comfort that only HE seemed able to provide, in his entire lifetime. She had never in her short lifetime, felt so comforted just by the warmth of someone's presence, not even Viktors'. So it was, as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart beating underneath her ear, and his hand gently stroking her hair, that she quietly told him about her parents' murder by Deatheaters six months ago.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Hermione. I didn't know. Sometimes I forget that there ARE good, kind fathers out there. I do believe your father must have been one of those, to have had a remarkable daughter like you. You are their legacy, Hermione. Live your life fully, live your life well, and be happy," Severus softly replied, with what she could have sworn was the whisper of a tiniest kiss on top of her head. "Get some sleep now." And so she drifted off, to dream strange sweet dreams of playing hide-and-seek with Severus in The Serpents' Garden.

The days and nights drifted by, and they fell into what became a comfortable routine for them both. They had a light breakfast after waking, followed by Severus' usual exercise regime—tai-chi on the even days, and muggle-style fencing on the odd days—held in The Serpents' Garden. Hermione was naturally athletic, and totally surprised Severus by scoring a 'touche' after her fifth lesson. Their afternoons were taken up by reading and research, discussed over a large tea, some times leading to VERY heated debates, as their opinions didn't always agree.

The nights were for magic; both for the brewing of the needed Wolfsbane Potion, and for the magickal chemistry that now flowed like a palpable essence between them. After that second night of holding Hermione all night-long, Severus had begun sleeping on his side with his back to her. For good measure, he'd resorted to a warding charm he cast on himself, to wake him if he moved more than two inches in his sleep. Hermione had been a little vexed that he no longer seemed to want to snuggle in their sleep, until he'd pointed out that he felt obligated to uphold her honor, while she had no protector except him. It was then that she realized what a truly honorable man this was, and her heart blossomed wide-open with love for him. 'Hang on a minute! Could it be? Yes, I believe I am. Sweet Circe! I'm falling in love with Severus Snape!' she thought, and buried it deep inside, to be pulled out and looked at later when they were back in the 'real world'.

It was the final night of the brewing. Tonight would be the new moon, or 'the dark of the moon', when Earths' magicks were actually stronger than lunar magicks. Severus and Hermione went into Salazars' laboratory earlier than usual, to prepare the final additions for the Wolfsbane Potion. It would have to be completed, strained, and bottled in special silver-lined bottles before it was exposed to the light of the first crescent moon, or it would be ruined.

"DAMMIT!" shouted Severus, grabbing the pair of shears that lay in front of Hermione. "I can't see anything for this damned hair in my way," he grumbled as he lifted up a hank of hair with one hand, and aimed the scissors level with his chin with the other.

"STOP!" shouted Hermione, taking hold of the hand that held the scissors. He allowed her to remove the shears from his hold, and lay them back down. She looked into his deep onyx eyes, and he read nothing but honesty in hers as she said, "No, Severus. Please don't cut your hair! It's so beautiful hanging just past your shoulders like this, so shiny, so BLACK!" She tentatively ran her fingers through it, and whispered under her breath, "It feels like silk to my fingers."

"But it's in my eyes, and I can't see how to properly grind these snake fangs," Severus growled in annoyance. "I'd hate to kill your werewolf, instead of helping him." Her brow furrowed for a second before she had an idea. Hermione picked the shears back up, and felt the underside of her own hair. She selected one thin ringlet, snipped it off, and used her wand to transfigure it into a honey-gold satin ribbon. She gave Severus a grin, and said, "Pass me the ribbon when I ask for it."

Hermione stood up, stepped behind Severus to comb her fingers through his raven-black hair, pulling it all back behind his ears, and deftly braiding it into a que. "Pass me the ribbon," she ordered. He meekly passed the ribbon over his shoulder, without a word, and she secured the pig-tail in place. "There, that should do it," she said with a smile, as she resumed her seat at the workbench beside him. He cleared his throat, and muttered a quiet "Thank you," before going back to his grinding.

Hermione went back to picking the pollen grains out of the thirteen oleander flowers. She had learnt so much from Severus these past two weeks. He was a hard, meticulous, aggravating, sarcastic taskmaster; he was also tender, kind, and Merciful Merlin. . . that voice! That timbre in his voice, she was firmly convinced, could quite possibly cure the common cold! At that minute, the voice she'd just been daydreaming about was trying to get her attention.

"Hermione! Are you even listening to me?" Severus called her to attention. "What? Oh sir, I'm sorry, I drifted off. I apologize," she answered, and sat up straighter, giving him her undivided concentration. He continued, "I was saying that you need to take care with that," indicating the oleander with an inclination of his dark head. "Use the pollen grains ONLY. Even the smallest bit of the actual flower petal will be deadly for Lupin." She nodded her understanding of the gravity of her task, and became even more meticulous with the magnifying glass and tweezers.

At last all the final ingredients had been added, and simmered. The potion was complete and cooling, so they could get it bottled before they retired for the night. Severus stretched out the aching muscles of his back as he stood up. "Feel like a moonless walk in the Garden?" he invited her. She smiled up at him, and accepted the hand he'd held out to her. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they took a slow stroll through the fruiting trees and fresh, warm night air.

The white pebbles seemed to glow in the dark, and to Hermione it seemed like they were walking along the Milky Way instead of a pathway. They'd completed the circuit of the path, and stopped in front of the staircase entrance. Severus raised her hand to his lips, and pressed a gentle, respectful kiss onto her wrist, making her tingle with all-over gooseflesh. "I'll strain and bottle the potion, if you'd like to go have a soak, Hermione," Severus thoughtfully said. "I'll be down in about an hour or so. Would you have Gristle fetch us a light supper? I'm hungry, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, and left him standing in the Garden as she descended downwards toward their chambers. "Gristle!" she called as she entered the Great Room. Gristle 'popped' into view saying, "Yes, My Lady?" Hermione asked, "Would you mind running me a quick bath, and fetch my nightwear?" Gristle bobbed her head and gave her a large elfin smile before she 'popped' off. Hermione gave a lighthearted little skip, drew her wand, and lit the fire using Severus' own charm, "Incendare!"

Gristle 'popped' back beside Hermione, announcing that all was ready for My Lady's bath. Hermione smiled at what was to her becoming a beloved elfin face, and told her to prepare a light supper that would appeal to Severus' sometimes finicky appetite. She blushed a bit as she asked for two special treats to celebrate the completion of the potion. Gristle just smiled a huge smile, as she nodded her understanding and agreement, and 'popped' off.

When Severus came into the Great Room, he found Hermione already seated at table, and a bucket of ice on the floor near his place holding a bottle of champagne. He took his seat, in his graceful 'lotus' form, opened the bottle with a POP, and poured them each a flute of the sweet bubbles.

Hermione toasted him with, "To a wonderful experience with a most extraordinary teacher, wizard, and man! Hear, hear!" She sipped a long swallow, her open, honest, amber eyes boring into his ebony eyes. Severus first reddened, then blanched paler than usual, as for the very first time the word 'love' flashed through his mind in connection with Hermione, much to his shocked surprise. He countered with a toast of his own, "To the brightest witch of her age, talented potions partner, and the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance." He inclined his head even deeper than was required by politeness, and drained his glass, before raising his burning black eyes to meet hers again. She flushed up at the 'look' in Severus' eyes.

She was saved from further embarrassment by Gristles' 'popping' in with a silver tray laden with several delicious-smelling covered dishes, which they began to attack by mutual silent agreement. After they'd eaten enough to keep from feeling hungry, but not so much as to be stuffed, Severus had asked Gristle to hold back dessert. He sent her instead to fetch his 'radio', which fascinated Hermione. She just couldn't for the life of her see Severus Snape with such a muggle device, until she remembered that he'd had a Muggle-born father.

He gave her a strange kind of smile, as he said, "I spent my school years here at Hogwarts in a lonely, angry, teenage rebellion of sorts. It was the Seventies, and just as all of you listen to The Weird Sisters now, I listened to the rock music of my time." He looked down, unwilling to meet her gaze, and continued quietly, "My radio only plays the songs that I enjoyed back then. I guess young people today would call them 'oldies', but I'd hoped that you'd be willing to listen to them with me."

He stood up and walked around the table, to offer her his hand to help her up. They moved on into the bedroom, where the hanging copper lamps were burning little low flames, with oil that was sweet-smelling like frankincense. Severus led her over to the corner that was piled high with a multitude of soft silken pillows, and held her hand until she'd taken a seat. He then stretched out onto the pillows with a panther-like grace, and pulled the hookah to him. He cocked an eyebrow at her shocked gasp, and as he loaded the smoking bowl, he asked her, "Not going to 'squeek me out', are you?" As she shook her head to say 'no', his music began playing, and she smiled. "Who are you? Who . . .who . . .who are you?"

Much later Hermione lazed back on the comfortable cushions, and nodded her understanding. Earlier, she had cautiously asked him about his childhood and teenage years; about what had led him to ever take the Dark Mark in the first place, and what had caused him to turn around, and return his soul to Light and Order. At first she thought she'd gone beyond the pale of just how close he would let her get to the 'real Severus', and not just the public 'Snarky Snape'.

But surprisingly, he had opened up to her; slowly at first, tersely glossing over the more unpleasant aspects of his impoverished, brutal childhood, and then pouring out his heart to her about his teenage angst of his mothers' death when he was a second-year, and his fathers' murder by alcohol poisoning when he was fifteen. The charity he'd been forced to accept from his cousin, Lucius, just to be able to stay in school. How Lucius had introduced him to Tom Riddle as an angry, rebellious teenager with an extraordinary gift at potions. Even some of the unspeakable things he'd done on Voldemorts' orders. It was as if it were a relief to finally be able to vomit out all the baggage he'd held inside for the thirty-eight lonely years to this caring, empathic witch.

Severus finally fell silent, and was lying on his side just staring at her, wondering, 'Whatever will she think of you now, Severus, old man? You've probably just lost ANY chance of a relationship with her.' Aloud he said, "Thirsty, Hermione?", and 'accio'd them two tall, iced fruit juices. She turned on her side to face him, and gratefully accepted her drink. "I could go for something sweet myself, how about you?" Hermione addressed him, and at the inclination of his head, she summoned Gristle to fetch them a variety of biscuits, sweet-meats, and of course, chocolate of every flavor.

The music had continued the whole time Severus had been talking, the old music making the perfect backdrop to his confessing his past to her. In some strange way, she felt older and wiser for having learned these secret things about Severus; while for his part, Severus felt remarkably younger, his heart and soul immeasurably lighter for having shared his burden. They glanced at each other, and knew they each understood the other perfectly. A song began to play; and as soon as the first few distinctive notes were played, Hermione went nostalgic and misty eyed.

"This was Mum and Dad's song," she whispered in response to his query of 'what's wrong?' Hermione sighed, and continued, "They danced to it every year on their anniversary. They had an old record player that Dad kept lovingly repaired, and tons of old vinyl records. Every year, they'd play this song, and dance. Sometimes, after I'd gotten older, Dad would dance it with me, too. Once after I'd went to bed, I heard it playing late at night. I crept up and peeked through the banisters down to see them dancing so slow, and rushed to jump back into my bed when my Dad began to snog Mum," she flashed him an embarrassed grin, and lapsed inward, reliving her fondest memories for the very first time since her parents' murder.

Severus tried his best to not intrude on her private thoughts, but was so 'in tune' with her by this point, that he felt his mind being pulled as softly as a shadows' fall along with hers' into her past. It was at first a spinning, rapid collage of her observing her parents for every one of the eighteen years of her young life: but it settled down to just one distinct memory, replayed over and over through her ever maturing gaze; this same song she was listening to, her parents laughing, touching tenderly, kissing, dancing, aging, and her loss of joy and safety and HOME! He felt bereft right along with her, as silent tears of mingled grief and joy slid down her cheeks. He 'accio'd a handkerchief for her.

After she'd wiped her eyes and blown her nose, she gave him a slightly embarrassed glance up through tear-spiked eyelashes, and said, "Thank you, Severus." He looked deeply into her eyes, stood, bowed over her hand, and asked in the most gentlemanly way, "Miss Granger, may I have the honor of this dance?" Then with one wave of his other hand, the same old love song began to replay. Hermione accepted his hand, and was pulled to her feet into the dance steps that she remembered so well.

They fit together like hand to glove, so seamlessly did they slide into the rhythms and sways of the dance. As they curved together, his arms so tightly around her waist; her one arm curled around the back of his neck, the other resting on his chest near where her chin was tucked and her ear was held against the beat of his heart. Her parent's song suddenly became THEIR song, as the words suddenly crystallized and personified their relationship, "And like heaven above me, the spy who loves me is keeping all my secrets safe tonight! And no-body does it better. . . ."

Hermione leant her head back to stare vulnerably into his glittering jet-black eyes. Severus read the loneliness there, as deep as his own, and did what any hero would do at a time like this. He ever so slowly--millimeter by millimeter--giving her every opportunity to stop him, bent his lips to touch hers, and for the first time Severus Snape kissed Hermione Granger.

Severus meant for it to be chaste and comforting, and that was exactly what it was at the beginning. However, when Hermiones' other hand slid up his chest to wind through the silky blackness of his hair, then pulled his head down more insistently, and parted her lips in a moaning sigh, he just LOST it! He pulled her compliant body even more tightly against his surprisingly fit body, and his tongue plunged into her mouth to taste such freely-surrendered sweetness. 'Oh merciful gods, she tastes of honey, blood-oranges, and chocolate! It's even better than I dreamed of'', thought Severus as he slowly licked the roof of her sweet-tasting mouth, abandoning every other thought except the wonderful sensation of Hermione in his arms.

"Oomph!" exhaled Severus, as he landed on his back on the cushions. Hermione had flipped him with an unexpected defensive sweep that he'd taught her one morning last week, and landed on top of him, beginning her own assault invading his mouth with her tongue. 'Sweet Circe! The minx kisses like she does everything else, perfectly!' Some part of Severus' brain stored the memory of the low-throated growl she had breathed into his mouth at the same instant her tongue began its' rape of his tongue, swirling around it—sucking and licking—and perfectly willing to allow herself to be tutored in turn by his mastery. His hands found that they had minds of their own, and began to rove over her every curve and secret place.

Using a simple hip-roll, Severus was now on top of a writhing and willing Hermione, who suddenly found herself on her back with an extremely aroused Severus slowly grinding his erection against her belly. The kisses went from being urgent and grasping, to something totally different; languid, gentle, learning, and teaching. So did their hands, because Hermiones' hands were doing their fair-share of roaming, and learning Severus' body just as intimately as he was hers.

"Stop, Hermione," Severus whispered, feeling the nearness of his 'point-of-no-return' with her feather-light touches and strokes along his throbbing groin. She whispered back, her eyes glowing with acceptance and desire, "But I don't want to stop, Severus," his name coming out in a husky purr that damned nearly caused him to climax right then. "By all the gods, Hermione, STOP!" Severus said, pushing himself up off her and running a trembling hand through his hair.

"Did I do something wrong, Severus? Why are you stopping? I WANT you!" Hermione sensuously whispered feeling suddenly naked and exposed to the world, even though she remained full dressed, laying her hand on his surprisingly well-muscled back.

"We CAN'T, Hermione. Remember your vows to Mab. No sex until the night of the full moon; and I don't want to just be a 'stand in' for your damned bloody werewolf!" exploded Severus in a rush that he couldn't hold back any longer.

Hermiones' mouth formed a shocked, silent 'Ooh', then her topaz eyes widened at what the total implication of his outburst had to mean. Severus Snape was JEALOUS! 'He actually THINKS that Remus . . . and I . . . are together?' she thought, and began to smile a very wanton smile. Aloud she replied, "You would never be the 'stand-in', Severus. It's NEVER been like that between Remus and me; he's involved with Tonks. I believe they are truly in love with each other, but because of what he is, he won't ask her to marry him."

Severus jerked around to stare into her honest eyes with totally black eyes aflame with his desire for her. She gasped in surprise, and then reached a gentle hand out to stroke his cheek tenderly. He pressed a hot, fervent kiss into her palm before suddenly standing up, saying as he did so, "There is still your vow to Mab. It must be honored. We dare not lose her aid because we are beasts who cannot control their impulses, instead of humans who can." He strode out of the bedroom calling over his shoulder, "Go to bed, Hermione. I'm going for a walk. I need to be alone for awhile, until I can get myself under control again."

Hermione whispered to his rapidly retreating back, "But how do I get myself under control, when I want YOU so badly?" She slowly levered herself up, and crawled into that too large, too lonely bed, alone for the first time since they'd arrived here two weeks ago.

Severus returned hours later to find Hermione curled into the fetal position on the very edge of her side of the bed, turned where her back would face his. She was asleep, but it looked to be a restless sleep. He passed his right hand magicks aglow, feather-soft across her hair, and whispered, "Pax dormium." The worry-lines smoothed instantly from her forehead, and her taut face relaxed into a gentle smile as she drifted over into a truly peaceful sleep.

As for him, he gave a huge sigh, pulled him some cover off the bed, and stalked over to what Hermione had nick-named 'the passion pit'. He fluffed and banged his fists into quite a few innocent cushions, before lying down in 'their' corner, and drifting into some very perturbing dreams of his very own.

For the remaining eight days that they had to spend in Salazars' chambers until they 'caught back up' with their proper time, Severus and Hermione proceeded with their normal routine as if nothing whatsoever had passed between them, and by unspoken mutual agreement didn't bring their one passionate night up again. However, Severus continued to sleep in the corner on the cushions every night—and he never invited Hermione to share them, insisting instead that she sleep in the massive bed all alone.

Time was getting short, so Gristle was sent on ahead with everything that he'd brought down into the chamber. Severus and Hermione huddled close together under Harrys' invisibility cloak in the total darkness at the far side of the dank staircase they'd come down by wand-light three weeks ago. He'd waited until the last possible second before 'Nox'ing the wand-light he held to lead her to this spot. There they came, stepping through the looking-glass gateway and down the staircase, and now they had just passed themselves on their way to Salazars' chambers for the first time.

Severus re-cast 'Lumos', and Hermione clutched his hand as tightly as she had that first time as they sprinted up the staircase to step back through the looking-glass, their mission completed successfully.

"You should go now, Hermione," said Severus after giving her hand another gentle squeeze before letting it go. "Thank you, for more than you know." By now they'd reached Severus' private bedroom, and were moving toward his sitting room.

Hermione started to just go, but her reckless heart stopped her, and she turned to face Severus. "Severus," she said quietly earnest, "I give you my solemn oath that anything we have discussed, anything that may have happened or not, I will never breathe a single word of as long as I live. You can trust me to respect your privacy."

"And you may trust me to keep all your secrets safe, Hermione. I will give my life rather than betray your trust," Severus replied in a deeply serious tone, reaching for and catching her hand. He bowed over it in a courtly fashion. At the last instant, he turned her hand over to press a hot, passionate kiss onto the inside of her wrist that caused her breath to catch in her throat, and her knees to go weak.

"Good night, Hermione," Severus huskily whispered, as he opened the door of his chamber for her.

She smiled a sad, lonely little smile, and answered, "Good night, Severus," and began her trek back to her own bedroom, and reality.

END CHAPTER NINE

A/N:P/S; Sorry to be guilty of 'over-explaining' the décor, clothing, etc., but just wanting you to be able to 'see' everything as I see it. As always reviews are welcome. Hard at work on Chapter Ten!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: As always, I'm not J. K., and own no rights to her world or characters. This is an AU, which splits from her world into mine somewhere about the middle of HBP, and takes the place of DH. WARNING: There will be some things in this chapter that are glaringly NOT canon, please remember this is an AU, and that I wanted a different ending for some of the characters I have grown to love along with the rest of the world. I suggest a rating of at least M, due to strong language, and sexual content. I hope you're enjoying my AU with the 'fluffy' twists, and my new characters as much as I am. Let's resume!

Chapter Ten: Reality Bites! or, We Should've Seen It Coming

Severus appeared at breakfast later that morning pretty much the same as usual, except for two things. For one thing his hair was neatly plaited back into a que held by a honey-gold satin ribbon; for the other, he was carrying a brown-paper wrapped parcel which he gave to Harry, and said, "Thank you for the loan of your possessions, Potter. They were most helpful."

He then took his seat near a morose Remus Lupin. After Severus had his coffee poured by unseen elfin hands, and he'd taken his first sip, he reached into his frock-coat pocket, pulled out three of the special Wolfsbane Potion bottles, and set them in front of an astonished Lupin.

"How'd you do it, Severus?" Remus flushed in gratitude, and continued, "I stand in your debt as always. You have no idea just what this means to me."

"You owe me nothing, as usual, Lupin," Severus cut him short with a brusque wave of his long-fingered hand. "It merely gave me a chance to practice my arts." Severus froze for a split-second, as Hermione came into the Great Hall to join the males for breakfast. Just as quickly, the reaction was covered by his normal sauterne expression, and he simply inclined his dark head in acknowledgement of her presence, as she took a seat between himself and Remus.

Remus' nostrils flared as his heightened werewolf senses smelled both of their pheremonal sexual scents; Severus' sandalwood scent wafted from Hermione, and her scent was so strong on Severus that Remus was honestly shocked. He looked more closely at the source of the strongest scent, Severus' ribbon that secured his hair. Lupins' eyes widened as he realized just how much Hermione must trust Severus. He'd been made DADA instructor not only because of his talent with a wand, but also his innate ability to recognize objects of power. Unless he was mistaken, and he knew that he wasn't, it seemed that she had voluntarily given a lock of her hair to a Potions Master, a known practitioner of some of the Darker Arts.

Even in its' charmed state, used properly, Severus could make a slave of her with a simple charm. Remus nervously rubbed the side of his nose with one hand, as he watched their barely visible reactions to one another. 'No,' thought Remus, 'he'd never use ANY powers against her. Merciful Merlin! What's happened between them in one night that could have bonded them like this? I'd stake my life that they hadn't had sex. I'd definitely smell THAT.'

Everyone was just a bit surprised by Hermiones' appearance at breakfast. The girls had all been sleeping in for a week now, since their lessons with Mab were held at night in the Dark Forest. She blew it off as that she simply couldn't sleep, and had decided she'd join them for breakfast instead.

Harry was the only one who understood that her 'body-clock' was probably out of sync' from being in the past so long. He stared silently across the table at the two of them. 'Just what DID happen between them, having to spend three weeks in hiding together?' Harry wondered.

His brotherly worry slowly transferred itself to Hermione, and she raised puzzled amber eyes to meet emerald-green ones with a quirked eyebrow that was pure Snape. Harry relaxed a bit as waves of 'I'm okay' washed over him, coming from Hermione. But it still bore keeping a brotherly eye on the situation.

Severus had felt the connection between Hermione and Harry. How could he not have, being in such close mental-bonding with her himself? As he felt Harrys' eyes land on him, he inclined his head slightly in a semi-bow of acknowledgement, and raised his own black eyes, for once unshielded and honest.

Remus had been observing all this from his position on the sidelines, and knew in his heart that whatever Harry had read in Severus' eyes, it had satisfied Harry that Hermione would be safe and protected. That was good enough for him, too.

Hermione sipped her hot, milky coffee slowly, savoring the flavor she remembered so well. 'Gristle HAD to have brewed this!' she thought with a small reminiscent smile. As she was just setting her cup down, Severus was drizzling just the amount of honey that she liked on her buttered toast, having it ready to bite into as her hand reached for it. He then reached for a blood-orange from the bowl of fruit in front of them, pulled out his pen knife, peeled and sectioned it onto a saucer, and set it between them to share from.

Remus was truly amused by the innocent domesticity of this little tableau before him. Here was a side of Severus Snape that he thought he'd never live long enough to see, even if he'd lived to be two-hundred years old! Severus Snape was WHIPPED! An eighteen year-old Muggle-born witch had whipped the Mighty Snark himself! The rest of their little group thought Remus had gone quite moon-mad, as he suddenly burst out laughing until he had tears rolling down his cheeks and wouldn't explain what was so funny.

After breakfast was done with, the group had debated with Severus and Remus about their curriculum for the day. Hermione looked at Severus, and whispered only loudly enough to be heard by him (and one hearing-heightened werewolf), "But today is tai-chi practice! Can't we sneak away?" The regretfully longing look in Severus' eyes, as he sadly shook his head, nearly unmanned Remus. 'Well, I'll be damned! I think he really IS falling for Hermione,' Remus thought in amazement. 'I think I'll lend old Severus a helping hand, if he wants to 'cut' class.'

Severus set the essay on the subject of "Ma-at", the divine cosmic 'balancing act' between Chaos and Order, Darkness and Light, Good and Evil; with emphasis on the deities of Ancient Egypt. He made his usual impressive circuit of the room, making sure that everyone was hard at work, ending where Remus was sitting on a chair propped back against the wall. Remus motioned him out the door with a nod of his head, and Severus slipped silently out. Harry went right behind him, unseen because of his cloak, but sticking close enough to Severus to have been his shadow.

Hermione was sitting on top of the stone railing of the cloister walk, waiting for Severus to come to her. Her face beamed with happiness as soon as she saw him striding towards her, his black teaching robe billowing behind him. She stood up and they left together, walking purposefully towards the grassy lawn behind Hagrids' cottage.

Severus removed his robe and frock-coat, and Hermione took up her usual position on his left. Harry quietly watched them from a safe distance away, as they did their stretches and flexibility routine, then assumed the ancient postures of the tai-chi. It was rather like watching a beautiful, deadly ballet, because Harry could see the combat potential of the graceful, precise, set movements they performed as they began their practicing in perfect mirror-image.

Then they started something different. Severus blindfolded Hermione, and spun her around several times. As soon as she regained her balance, she went into a loosely crouched stance, her hands raised in a defensive pattern in front of her chest. Severus silently stepped closer to her to almost land a chop to her throat, but she blocked it. He bobbed backwards as she aimed a kick at where his head had just been. It went back and forth, sometimes it seemed that Severus had her ready to 'cry mercy', and in the next instant, she'd landed her left foot against the side of his jaw.

They'd been at it for just over an hour without a break. Both of them had worked up a good sweat, and a house elf that Harry had only met once before 'popped' up beside Severus and Hermione with a fluffy towel for each of them. The house elf then spread out a faded old quilt, and laid out a light picnic for the two of them before 'popping' away. It was just cheese and fruit-juice and sweet biscuits, but they comfortably lounged together on the quilt chatting away and nibbling, like this was an every day occurrence for them.

Harry wasn't so sure about this anymore. It sort of creeped him out a bit, to be honest. After all, Severus was so much OLDER than Hermione! 'She could do so much better than an ex-Deatheater twenty years her senior,' Harry thought, when he suddenly remembered that her father had been fifteen years older than her Mum. Harry was watching them intently, when the wind blew a few stray tendrils of her long, unruly curls across her face.

Severus reached out a surprisingly tender hand, to gently brush the hair from her eyes, and that hand had lingered for a second to graze her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Hermione smiled sweetly at him, and tried to lean in for a kiss. He forestalled her by rising to his feet, putting his frock-coat back on, and reaching for her hand to help her up.

Her disappointment was plain to see, even from the distance Harry was from them. Severus simply bowed respectfully over her hand, and placed a single, reverent kiss onto her wrist, before tucking her hand into the curve of his elbow and escorting her back up to the cloister walk. He pulled his black teaching robe back on, and with a single regretful glance at Hermione, left to return to his classroom.

Harry was dumbfounded by Snapes' behavior towards Hermione. He had actually seemed human! If their trip to the past, and their time spent there together had been this effective a cure for Severus; as long as Hermione wasn't hurt by it, Harry was all for it. He slipped the invisibility cloak off, and sat down beside Hermione on the cloister railing. "So, 'Mione, how're you doing?" Harry quietly asked, the simple question needing multiple answers.

Hermione at first didn't meet his eyes, which worried him afresh. Then she met his eyes with open honesty, and said, "I'm fine, Harry. The past three weeks were simply wonderful! I learned so much from Severus; tai-chi, spells, Apparation lessons, even Muggle-style fencing--if you can believe it! He's really not like what we thought of him when we were students. He has a truly caring heart, buried deep inside all that nasty snarkiness." She rambled to a halt, her eyes alight with some memory that made her lips turn sadly up into a travesty of a smile.

Harry had watched her face intently, reading between the lines—so to speak. He noticed that she hadn't talked about anything really personal, and that bothered him. It was just like when she'd started seeing Viktor. She sort of 'closed up', and wouldn't share what she was truly feeling. Harry tried again, "Hermione, you do know that you can talk to me about anything, and I'll be there for you—right?"

Hermione sighed, and answered, "Yes, Harry, I do know. I know what you really want to ask me, and I beg you not to. I gave Severus my word of honor that I'd protect his privacy. If you trust me, believe me when I tell you that NOTHING happened between Severus and me." Her eyes were boring into his as she'd spoken, and Harry finally nodded his agreement to speak no more about it. They sat in companionable silence for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

Luna and Ron were the first two of the others to find Hermione and Harry, all excited to let them know that Professor McGonagall was finally well and back in human form. The foursome left immediately for the huge celebratory tea to be served in the Great Hall, Ron describing in loving detail some of the cakes and sweets he'd glimpsed in passing as they'd come looking for them. Hermione had just glanced at Harry, and rolled her eyes, which had made him smile and shake his head.

Professor McGonagall was 'holding court' in a manner of speaking, with even the Ravenclaw and Slytherin girls happy and excited to have her well, and back amongst them. Severus entered ever so slowly, like the leper at the feast, unsure of the reception he'd receive. As soon as he'd come into her peripheral vision, Minerva had turned an icy-cold stare his way and let her eyes slide right over him as if he weren't even there.

Severus had visibly flinched at her 'cut direct'; and took a place at the farthest end of the only table there, not daring to meet anyone else's eye, not even Draco's. Severus barely ate more than a tiny, choking mouthful, and it seemed to take him a great effort to even swallow a sip of his now cold tea. He could feel Hermiones' sympathetic eyes attempting to 'will' him to look her way, but he refused to give in. Severus wasn't sure just what he might see there now.

But he'd be DAMNED if he'd apologize to that saggy cow, McGonagall, for something he'd had no control over! 'It's not like I MEANT to kill Albus, after all. The old coot 'imperio'd me, and took it out of my control,' Severus thought bitterly to himself. And by all the gods, he'd paid DEARLY for it while a prisoner in St. Mungo's!

Severus instinctively drew his sarcastic snarkiness around him, like a suit of armor that no hurtful words could penetrate, and just radiated his surly superiority instead. As soon as the prescribed 'polite' half-hour visitation had passed, he took the first opportunity of leaving, and fled out to the Forbidden Forest where they normally held their dueling practice in the afternoons.

Draco left immediately behind Severus, followed closely by Harry and Hermione. They came upon a seething Professor Snape. Any part of him that might be separated out into the Severus that Hermione had come to know so intimately, was now buried so deep inside him that it would take a LONG time for him to relax and let it out again. "Severus," Draco softly said, "I know the truth about Dumbledores' death. It wasn't your fault."

Severus jerked around, a cutting, hateful rejoinder hovering on his curled-up lip, when Harry added, "Sir, Draco and I were left final instructions both in writing, and held in Dumbledores' pensive. We're your witnesses. We both saw Dumbledore place you under the Imperious Curse, and saw what he ordered you to do. You are not a murderer."

Severus closed his mouth with a snap, inhaling sharply through his flaring nostrils. He slowly turned his angry, glittering black eyes towards this new source of conscience-pricking. He saw Hermione laying a protective hand gently on Harrys' shoulder, and finally allowed himself to meet her shimmering topaz eyes.

They glowed with righteous indignation and sympathy FOR him! 'Sweet Merlin! Could it possibly be?' Severus was stopped in his tracks by both his own sudden thoughts, and something else he read in her beautiful brown eyes as clearly as if she'd been 'Legillimized'. 'Is that LOVE? For ME?' he wondered with shock.

Severus went hot, then cold, then hot again as adrenalin suddenly made his palms coat with sticky sweat. He carefully swallowed back all the vitriolic comments he'd had on the tip of his tongue, and as he did so somehow he could almost taste Hermiones' kisses again. Severus cleared his throat, and managed a brusque, "Thank you Potter, Draco. I am perfectly able to bear the burden of scapegoat. I've done it for years now."

Almost involuntarily, Severus walked over to where Hermione was standing beside Harry. He bowed slightly and said, "And I appreciate YOUR belief in my innocence, Hermione." She gave him a rather shy smile, at this marking of his interest in her in front of Harry. And Draco also, of course. Somewhere deep inside her there stirred a feeling of satisfaction, as a random thought skittered across her mind, 'How's it feel, Malfoy? Your godfather, the Half-Blood Prince himself, choosing a jumped-up Mud-blood like me?'

Severus appreciated the purely Slytherin grin his little lioness had on her lips, and the urge to kiss it from her face became more than he could control. As he leant over, his intentions suddenly clear, her arms went up to encircle his neck of their own accord and she rose up on her toe-tips to meet his lips with her own.

Harry felt his stomach flip upside down, and he glanced over at Malfoy. From the queasy look Draco shot back at him, along with the little gagging sounds he was making, Harry assumed that they felt the same way about this new turn of events. He jerked his head to the left, indicating the path to their side, and in silent unison they moved off to allow the snogging couple a bit of privacy.

What Harry had failed to see was the smirk of satisfaction on Dracos' face, and the chuckle—which he'd swallowed so quickly back—that he'd almost gagged on it. 'Well, FINALLY!' thought Draco, as he looked back over his shoulder, where his godfather was throughly snogging the shi-ite out of his Mud-blood prize. 'Severus seems happy enough with the outcome of my meddling in his affairs.' After all Draco, his own self, had briefly held an infatuation for Hermione, as well as a grudging respect for her, after she'd punched him in his nose their third year.

Of course it would be just their luck! Here came the others, drifting into the Forbidden Forest, ready to practice their curses and dueling. Harry shot Draco a frantic, worried look, then turned to face Ron, who was just now turning onto the path that they were standing on.

Draco had been quick on the uptake, and had stumbled backwards, calling in a loud voice, "Ah there you all are! Ready to get your arse kicked, Weaselby?" in a desperate attempt to both warn Severus, and to draw Rons' attention to himself instead. It was too late. Ronald Weasley had seen just enough of the end of Severus' and Hermiones' kiss, to be certain that he HAD seen what he'd thought he'd seen.

"BLOODY HELL! What's going on, Harry?" Ron shouted, made instantly enraged by, and jealous of, their kiss. "I thought you were supposed to be protecting Hermoine, not just idly standing by while she gets shagged by that old murdering bastard!"

Harry tried to reason with Ron, even though a tiny part of him secretly agreed with Rons' reaction. "There's no 'shagging' going on, Ron. It was just a kiss, and Hermione was more than willing. Severus didn't force her." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the sudden knowledge of their truthfulness eased all of his doubts and worries about the situation. Harry quietly accepted that this WAS Hermiones' choice. He loved her, and if Severus made her happy, he was happy for his sister.

This did nothing to improve Rons' temper. It only served to make him even more angry, and he savagely snarled at Harry, "Oh, so it's 'Severus' now, is it? I reckon you really ARE a pansy after all, to willingly give over our Hermione to that greasy git. I'll bet you didn't even stand up to him, tell him to leave her alone, or ANYTHING! I'll bet you just walked off, or ran away like you always do, you buggery bloody coward!" He pushed past Harry, calling hatefully over his shoulder, "I'll take care of this myself. I'm not a sick, old man, and I'm NOT afraid of Severus Bloody Snape!"

By this time, the rest of their group had reached the place on the pathway where all this drama was being played out. Dueling practice took on its' true meaning in that instant in all their minds. They were looking around at each other, wondering what could possibly be done to stave off the battle that would surely be starting any second now. But not even the twins could do or say anything to sway Rons' irrational rage.

Luna tried to pull Ron back, but he just angrily shrugged her hand away and gave her SUCH a look that she instantly staggered several steps backwards, just as if he'd slapped her face. Harry slipped a comforting arm around Luna, and she buried her face against his chest with a sob. Ron snorted in disbelief at this, and stormed off towards where Hermione and Severus were standing a few yards away.

Severus attempted to stand in front of Hermione, to take the brunt of whatever curse or hex was sure to be coming, judging from the look of dark rage staining Ron Weasleys' usually pleasant face. She, however, daintily twirled around Severus in one smooth tai-chi posture, and Hermione was suddenly in-between him and Ron by a good three feet. Severus was at the same time both annoyed that Hermione felt the need to fight this battle for him, and proud of his little lioness' fierceness and loyalty.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione went on the attack. "Just what's the meaning of all this? You need to calm down right now," she tried to reason with him. Ron started reaching for his wand, and Severus instantly stepped closer towards Hermione and rested a protective, long-fingered hand on her shoulder, ready to jerk her out of the way if necessary.

"Let go of her, you murdering BASTARD!" Ron screamed at Severus. He roughly grabbed Hermiones' wrist, snatching her almost off her feet, and over to his side. "Ouch! Let go of me, Ronald! You're hurting me," cried Hermione, twisting her wrist from his grip and rubbing at marks that would be bruises before the night was over. Severus went livid that this "pup" would DARE lay hands on HIS Hermione! He drew in a sharp inhalation as he saw the marks for himself, before Hermione could hide them.

Severus' face hardened into a dark and dangerous mask of contempt as he stared eye-to-eye level with Ron. You could almost SMELL the testosterone in the air, as the two wizards took full measure of each other. "Let it be, Severus," urged Hermione, turning to Severus. "It's not worth it! It doesn't matter what Ron or anyone else thinks. I still believe in you, and I still want you."

Rons' face went as pale as it had been reddened, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. As soon as his mouth COULD shut, he snapped it closed. A mix of emotions flew across his face simultaneously, and finally he addressed Hermione with the first question that he could formulate, "What's the sodding bastard DONE to you, Hermione? Has he forced you to drink a love potion? Is it some sort of love spell? Has he 'imperio'd you? Merlins' Balls, Hermione! It's SNAPE, for crying out loud!"

"Ron, you just can't understand," Hermione softly replied, reaching an open-palmed hand out to her first crush. "You're still seeing Severus with the eyes of a child. He's not what you think he is at all! There is so much MORE to him than just 'Snarky Snape'. I wish you could see Severus through my eyes just once. . . ."

But Rons' bitter laugh cut her sentence short, "Child? CHILD! I might not be old enough to be your FATHER," indicating Severus with a sharp nod of his head, "but I'm NOT a child anymore, Hermione. I'm almost eighteen! I've been an adult wizard for almost a year now."

"And I AM eighteen, Ronald," Hermione interjected. "I'll be nineteen in five months, IF we all live through this. Can't WE have some happiness too, while we've still got the chance? Don't we deserve it?" Hermione had stepped backwards, as Severus stepped a stride closer to her. She almost had Ron won over, but as Severus laid a possessive hand again on her shoulder, Ron became incensed all over again. This time however, he had a new target for his vitriol.

"Well, well, Hermione," snarled Ron, in the most hateful tone she'd EVER heard him use. "We ALL knew that you had a taste for 'tall, dark, and ugly'—but at least Viktor Krum was only four years older than you, and a Pure-blood as well. Snape's just a filthy Half-blood! He's a Deatheater, a lying spy, and a MURDERER! No self-respecting wizard will EVER have you after you've shagged SNAPE—not even a stupid Hufflepuff Mud-blood!"

The Sisterhood all gasped in unison, as this garbage spewed out of Ron Weasleys' poor but Pure-blood mouth. Fred and George both stared in shocked, boggle-eyed disgust that their own brother could actually harbor such prejudiced crap inside.

Neville glared Rons' way, as Gillian had just curled against him seeking protection. "I say Weasley! I might be afraid of Snape, but he IS on our side. If it's what Hermione wants—who are we to judge them?" Neville interjected. Neville had definitely found his balls, and his loyalty to Harry and Hermione had bravely moved him to defend her.

"RONALD!" exclaimed Harry, and suddenly found he was unable to articulate anything else, his horrified shock robbing him of further speech. THIS from the one supposed to be his closest friend, supposed to be THEIR closest friend! Everyone's eyes swiveled to catch Hermiones' reaction.

Hermiones' jaw was clenched so tightly that it seemed as if her teeth would crack, and she stood mutely staring at Ron. The deep hurt in her eyes slowly changed to righteous indignation, and she said bitterly, "You left something out, Ronald. What I am! A filthy, jumped-up Mud-blood! Say it Ronald! Let me hear you say it!" Her back was ramrod straight, chin thrust out proudly, her eyes shimmering with tears of rage that she refused to let fall.

Severus was lividly tight-lipped, and if looks could kill, Ronald Weasley would be 'avada cadavera' stiff right now! Severus had encircled her shoulders with a protective left arm, and pulled her back against his chest. Exactly when he'd drawn his wand no-one could say, because no-one had even seen him pull it out. But it was currently aimed Rons' way.

Hermione was breathing deeply, her anger raging hot courses through every trembling fiber of her being. She slowly raised her bruised wrist, and laid her hand gently on Severus' wand arm. He allowed her to lower it with a whisper of a touch. She smiled ever so sweetly up at him, and slid from his grasp.

Everyone froze and held their collective breaths as she approached Ron like a tiger would stalk its' prey. Hermione stood absolutely still for a fraction of a second, then she punched Ron in the nose with a left jab that had three weeks of tai-chi practice behind it. It was SPECTACTULAR! Hermione shoved past Draco, the others parting like the Red Sea before her strides, as she stomped off back towards the castle.

"You bwoke ma noth!" Ron shouted from his sudden seat on the dirt of the forest floor, clamping both hands over his profusely bleeding, painfully crooked nose.

Draco came over to stand looking sympathetically down at Ron. He 'tsk, tsked' at Ron, as he pulled an expensive Slytherin-green silk handkerchief from the pocket of his snug jeans and passed it down to Ron. Weaselby might be as poor as a churchmouse, but he WAS a Pure-blood, and it was Dracos' understanding that Pure-bloods stuck together.

The handkerchief must have been charmed, because as soon as Ron pressed it to his bleeding, throbbing nose, it instantly stopped bleeding and the pain definitely eased off. He tried to pass the bloody rag back to Draco, with a mumbled 'thanks, man', but Draco turned up his nose in disgust. "Unless of course YOU'D like some of Weaselbys' blood, Severus, old man?" Draco directed his query toward Severus, who shook his head in the negative. After glancing up into Severus' eyes, Ron turned his eyes downward and couldn't look anywhere else but at the toes of his trainers, and just sit on his bum in flushed embarrassment.

Draco addressed Ron directly, "Who'd ever have thought it? Weaselbys' a closet bigot! EVERYONE knows that your whole family are Muggle-lovers! No offense, but your father has slaved for years at one of the lowest paid and least respected jobs in the Ministry, just because he loves Muggles. No matter that his family had to 'make do' and 'do without'. He wouldn't desert his Muggle-loving ways to make a push for a better paying position. What would he say if he knew just how his youngest son truly feels? I mean, I've had this race-bullshit forced down my throat by Lucius my whole life. And at least I'm openly honest about being prejudiced. But Weasle, Mud-blood or not, Hermione Granger has EARNED your respect. Bloody hell, she's earned and won MINE!"

Slowly, first one and then the others all began to turn their backs, and walk away from Ron, leaving the Forbidden Forest and deflated drama behind them along with a shaken Ron Weasley. Draco unexpectedly offered his hand to Ron, and helped him lever himself to his feet. Ron stole a sideways glance at Severus, whose back was turned to him as he walked off the opposite way—accompanied by only Remus Lupin, who was speaking in hushed, urgent tones to him.

An embarrassed Ron trudged along beside Draco silently for a while, then he stopped and said, "Malfoy, I don't know WHERE all that came from. I'm not really prejudiced. I just wanted to insult Snape and to HURT Hermione, and I don't know WHY!" Draco inclined his white-blond patrician head, and said, "Well, you caught the snitch on that one, Weasel."

Ron blushed, cleared his throat, and tried again, "Malfoy, HOW am I ever supposed to FACE everyone again? It was like I was possessed, or something. It was like somebody else was using my mouth, and I couldn't stop them." He drifted silent again, a sick, worried expression painted on his glum freckled-face.

"Ronald," Draco finally answered, "I don't REALLY know Hermione that well, at least not like you or Pothead or Sneville, but she seems to be the forgiving type. If I were you, I'd try apologizing. Plead temporary insanity, pick her some flowers, grovel before her, and anything else you can think of doing! SHE might just be the one you'll get for the sex-magick ritual in three days. I wouldn't trust what she'll do to your 'baubles and bits' if she's still pissed off at you."

Rons' face went even paler, and he swallowed hard as he nodded in total agreement with the Ferret for once in his life. Sweet Merlin, he'd forgotten all about the sex-magick ritual! All the guys had been gearing up for it, reading up on it from the book Draco had purloined from Snapes' personal library. What if Hermione WAS to be his chosen partner? At that instant, Ron firmly decided that even if he had to shag Minerva McGonagall, it'd be better than having to do it with Hermione, after all he'd said this day.

They were searching the castle high and low all afternoon, and still nobody could find Hermione. Harry had even searched her old room in Gryffindor Tower, and then checked his room to see if his invisibility cloak was missing. It wasn't. Elle had checked everywhere in Slytherin house that it was possible for a girl to hide since she'd had personal experience hiding from Draco, and his advances, for nearly six years. No Hermione anywhere! It was nearly suppertime, and no-one had been successful in locating her at all.

Severus and Remus entered the Great Hall together, to present a united front against Minervas' spite, and Harry rushed breathlessly over to meet them. He quietly explained Hermiones' disappearance to them, then looked Severus directly in his eyes and asked him if he would check the place they'd hid for all those weeks. It was the only place Harry could think of that he'd not looked, and he just had a feeling that THAT was where she would try to hide.

The three of them left the Great Hall, and went down to Severus' private dungeon rooms. Severus quietly said his pass-word to the serpent statue that guarded his rooms, and his door swung open. She wasn't in his sitting room, or bed chamber, or even in his personal library. Severus froze with a sudden thought. He turned on his heel, and strode into his bathroom. There, curled in a tight bundle, lay a sleeping Hermione. She had been thoughtfully covered with a Slytherin-green throw by Gristle, having obviously cried herself to sleep propped up against his charmed ebony-framed floor-length mirror.

Remus caught Harry by his arm, when he would've rushed over to Hermiones' side, and shook his head in a silent 'no'. Severus calmly walked over to where she was exhaustedly sleeping, knelt down, and laid one gentle, long-fingered hand on her curls. "Hermione?" he called softly, "Hermione, it's time to wake up, my love."

Ever so slowly she stirred, and then threw her arms around Severus' neck when she realized that he was REALLY there. "Oh, Severus! Reality really BITES! I want to go back to where it was just you and me, back to the Serpents' Garden. We were happy there. I was HAPPY there! Severus, we could let the world pass us by, and just be ALONE together, couldn't we? WHY do we have to make this fight our own?" she cried petulantly against his broad shoulder, knowing in her heart that it wasn't possible for either of them to run from the coming fight.

Severus softly replied, "Yes, Hermione, I know that reality bites," as he lifted her up into his strong arms, and carried her back into his sitting room. As soon as he had her comfortably settled on his black leather sofa, he spelled a cozy little fire in his fireplace that soon stopped her shivering from the chill of being on the icy-cold flagstone floor for so long. Harry sat down on the floor next to Hermione, and took her hand saying, "I'm so sorry, 'Mione! I could TRY to beat Rons' arse, if it'd make you feel better."

That brought a watery chuckle from her, and then Remus spoke up, "And if Harry fails, Hermione, I'd be more than agreeable to pummeling Ronald Weasley on your behalf. The approaching full-moon always makes me a bit more blood-thirsty!" The werewolf grinned toothily at her, a hint of wolfish-green glittering in his eyes that let her know that even though he'd meant it as a joke, if she asked it of him—he'd TRULY enjoy beating the hell out of Ron.

"Weasley belongs to ME," Severus snarled, with a cruel twist of his lips that bespoke a reckoning day in the near future for Ron, "that is IF we all live through the coming battle. Weasley should be ready to pay the price if he wants to play with the big boys, after all." Hermione raised her tear-stained face, and softly said, "No, Severus. It'll be alright, truly it will. It was just so unexpected, all that blood purity crap! We've all three of us been so close for so long, I forgot that Ron was even a Pure-blood. I WON'T make that same mistake ever again!"

"It's a hard lesson," Severus said in a voice of deepest regret that she'd ever had such spiteful hatred turned on her, and all for HIS sake. "I, myself, would have NEVER expected it from a Weasley! They're known for their Muggle tolerance all over the wizarding world." Severus paused for several long seconds, obviously lost in thoughts of his own pained youthful experiences of name-calling and hate. Remus followed Severus' inward gaze quite accurately, having taken the opportunity earlier that very afternoon to apologize for his own part in making Severus Snapes' school years and boyhood miserable.

"Severus?" Hermione called him back from his dark, lonely past. "Yes, Hermione?" he replied, all at once alert to her emotional needs again. "I don't want to face everyone just now, or eat supper in the Great Hall tonight. Could you—if you wouldn't mind, possibly have Gristle bring us a meal here, in your chambers?" she hesitantly asked him.

"Of course we'll dine here, if that's what you really want," Severus answered instantly. "I personally wasn't looking forward to another dose of Minervas' spite over my supper anyway. It spoils the digestion. Why don't you go wash up, and I'll summon Gristle." Hermione sat up, swung her feet off his sofa, and padded her way back into his bathroom without another word to anyone.

It was Severus' own idea to invite Harry and Remus to dine with them, then summoning his personal house elf and ordering a supper for them all. Severus quickly transfigured his cocktail table and a few other furnishings into a dining table and chairs to seat four. It didn't matter that the real reason he'd invited them to stay and dine was to act as chaperones for Hermione and himself. That Severus had even made the offer wordlessly spoke volumes about the transformation he was undergoing, simply because of his feelings for Hermione.

Hermione re-emerged from the bathroom looking and feeling much better, having washed her face and hands, and combed through her hair with that wonderous enchanted silver comb again. She was a bit disappointed that it wouldn't be just the two of them for dinner, but happy at the same time that Severus was being so civil about it all. It boded well for their future, IF they ever had the chance of a future, that is.

Severus was waiting on her with a jar of thick sweetly-salty smelling salve taken from his potions-case, and ever so tenderly rubbed her purplely-red, bruised wrist with it. Hermione smiled in gratitude as the mark faded instantly, and the pain all but disappeared. "Thank you, Severus," she said with a relieved sigh, flexing her wrist up and down. "That's so much better now." He bent his dark head, and said, "You are welcome, Hermione."

Severus then excused himself, and went to wash up himself. He returned a few minutes later, minus the usual black frock-coat, clad in his white linen shirt-sleeves, with his collar unbuttoned, and his straight black hair hanging loose, just the way that Hermione liked to see him. Harry was shocked at just how HUMAN their Potions Master seemed in this state of near-undress. Far less intimidating, and surprisingly so much younger!

Gristle 'popped' in with their supper, and Harry was surprised all over again. It was a superbly prepared, but simple meal of thinly-sliced, roasted chicken, seasoned to suit Severus' palate, duchesse potatoes, which Harry knew from experience were a favorite of Hermiones', and a mixed green salad, served with a light raspberry vinagrette dressing. Coffee and individual crèmes bruille was their dessert course. Their conversation had been lively, and had covered a variety of topics, but never a word was mentioned about Rons' churlish behavior, or how McGonagall was reacting to Severus.

Harry could finally SEE what Hermione had been trying to tell him about Severus earlier that morning. This man sitting here right now, was someone Harry would be proud to be able to call 'friend', and who'd make an excellent brother-in-law, too.

'WHOA, Harry!' he thought as he pulled himself up short, 'Just WHERE the bloody hell did THAT thought come from?' Harry glanced surreptitiously back and forth between Severus and Hermione, watching just how open and comfortable they were with each other. It was like they had each been made just for the other, so well did they harmonize.

What sealed the deal for Harry was the tender finger that Severus reached over to wipe a tiny pudding smudge from the corner of Hermiones' mouth with. It had seemed as natural as drawing in a breath of oxygen to both of them. Harry stared down at his own empty dessert plate, and swallowed hard, wishing that he had someone, ANYONE, who cared for HIM like that, as his loneliness sucked his spirit dry.

Severus' mind was instantly drawn-in by Harrys' abiding loneliness, and felt compelled to speak, "Harry, they say that there is someone for everyone. I've scoffed at that hackneyed homily for years now, but have very recently revised my opinion on the subject." He smiled a true smile, as he glanced over at Hermione before returning his dark gaze to Harry. "When you least expect it, and are least ready for it, love will find you. Fate will lend a hand." Severus had just made the most treacly speech of his life, and thought he would surely lose his supper; but it had pleased Hermione, and that was all that mattered.

Remus spoke up, "Harry, I never thought I'd be lucky enough that anyone would want ME, considering the condemnation and stigma over what I am. Then Tonks breezed into my life, and suddenly I see possibilities I have never allowed myself to believe in before. If she'll have me, and if I live through this war, as soon as it's all finally over I'm asking her to marry me."

"That's wonderful, Remus!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'll be SO happy for you both! That IS assuming that we live through this, of course," she added on a more somber note. She then turned to Harry, and said, "Harry, have you talked to Elle? REALLY talked her, that is. I think she's interested in you, but doesn't know you well enough to approach you."

Harry stared at Hermione in stupefied surprise, and said in disbelief, "Are you SURE, Hermione? She's so beautiful! And she's a Pure-blood, and a Slytherin as well. How do you know she'd even consider liking ME that way?"

Hermione just shook her head and looked at Harry like he was from another planet. She gave a merry little laugh, that caused both Remus AND Severus to join in. As she was wiping the laughter-tears from her eyes, she said, "Harry, I didn't think even YOU could be so dense! Merciful Merlin! The poor girl has done everything possible, other than raping you, to show you that she's interested. Sometimes you just have to make a push, and GO for it! Ask Severus, if you don't believe me."

Harrys' eyes swiveled to catch Severus Snape BLUSHING and rubbing a nervous hand over his strong, but unhandsome face. "Well, ah. . . , yes. Sometimes you DO just have to go for it, but at least leave the girl the opportunity to 'say no' with grace," Severus confessed. "Or you COULD always just sit back, and just let the girl rape YOU."

Hermione gasped, and scolded Severus, "You're telling tales out of school, Professor Snape!" Harry and Remus said simultaneously in a tone of mock horror, "HERMIONE!" To which she merely huffed, and said, "What? So okay, I did make the first move on Severus. He'd never have done it on his own, all right? And I really wanted him!"

Harry and Remus neither one could really wrap their mind around the idea of her as a 'femme fatale', and had absolutely NOTHING to say to this new side of the adult Hermione. They just looked at each other, and both wondered just how rude it would be to get the hell out of there right now.

But Severus gave a self-satisfied smirk, and looked directly into her amber eyes as he snarkily replied, "Whatever made you think that I wouldn't have chosen you for myself, Miss Granger? You ARE truly the brightest and most beautiful witch of your age anywhere. I've wanted you for a long time now, and it's been a pure BITCH waiting for you to finally grow up."

Hermione stared at Severus in open-mouthed surprise, as she realized how thoroughly she'd been had by Severus, and his sneaky Slytherin ways. But she was woman enough to recognize what a prize she'd caught in the Half-blood Prince. Let him, and his fragile male ego, believe whatever he wanted. She knew just WHO had caught WHOM! And that was good enough for her.

Soon it was time for Hermione to leave for her nightly lesson with Mab, and she left the three men sitting, chatting in companionable accord. After she'd gone, their conversation had eventually turned back to women—and just how each of them had lost their virginity. Except for Harry, of course, but he was 'all ears' as it was a subject he found increasingly interesting, since the sex magick ritual was now only three days away.

Remus swirled his brandy around in the snifter, and quietly confessed, "I was fifteen, and dating your mother, Harry." At Harrys' shocked look, Remus flushed a little and quickly added, "But NOTHING past a bit of snogging ever happened between us. Sirius and James had a field-day with me about that fact, and that summer I went on vacation to the Carpathians with my parents."

Remus' gaze turned inward as he relived the biggest mistake of his life. He continued, "I was a mass of raging fifteen year-old hormones, tall for my age, and desperate to get laid." He chuckled bitterly, and went on, "I met a beautiful girl in a small mountain village. Her name was Lisabetta. She was nineteen, tall, and blonde, and SHE came on to ME. What was I to do?"

"Nature took its' course one summer afternoon, and we made love for hours on a picnic blanket under the trees there on the side of the mountain. I thought I was REALLY doing it right when she bit my shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. It wasn't until the next full moon that I finally realized she'd done more to me than simply relieve me of the burden of my virginity."

Severus had bowed his head listening to this unknown tale, and he suddenly realized that HE had wronged Remus the following school year, by slipping that stupid potion into his pumpkin juice just because he'd been jealous of Lily and him. But the Slytherin in him told him that NOW was not the time to make a confession about just WHY Remus had begun to show distinctively homosexual leanings towards Sirius that year. Being a werewolf was hard enough. Besides, there WERE some things that Potter might just be better off NOT knowing about.

Remus grinned toothily at Severus, and said, "Well, that's my story. How about you, Severus old man? Who was the lucky lady that popped your cherry?"

Harry leant forward from his position in the comfortable armchair that he was currently occupying, and set his butterbeer down on the re-transfigured table beside him. THIS he definitely wanted to hear.

Severus sat morosely staring into his brandy. He swirled the alcohol around, and tossed that little remainder back in a single gulp. He didn't even look up at them, as he began his story in a voice deep with self-derision, "I was always hungry and too thin as a child. It's one thing to grow up poor, but loved, like the Weasleys. I grew up truly impoverished in a crumbling red-brick tenement slum with a drunkard for a father, and a mother that worked her self to death trying to support us."

"The only time I was ever TRULY happy as a child was the times I snuck off to the Muggle playground across town. When I was seven years old, I met a Muggle-born witch just my own age, with the most amazing eyes. She didn't even know what she was. She was sitting there in the sandbox, turning sand butterflies into real ones with a twig she'd picked from the hedge. She accepted me totally, ragged and dirty-faced as I was, and I fell helplessly in love with her. We both came to Hogwarts when we were eleven years old. But I was sorted into Slytherin, and she was sorted into Gryffindor; and even though she tried to remain my friend, she just couldn't ever like me the same way that I did her."

Severus allowed his obsidian eyes, burning with well-remembered pain, to meet Remus' own willow green stare, before dropping again to the floor. His gaze turned inward, and now he didn't even realize that he was speaking aloud the unspeakable, as he continued, "Lucius Malfoy petitioned the Ministry of Under-age Wizards on the death of my sole remaining parent, to be granted custody of me and gave me a home in Malfoy Manor. That January, I turned sixteen and was taken out of school for a weekend trip with my guardian, Lucius, to attend the wedding of the love of his life, Bellatrix Black to Rudolphus LeStrange."

"Lucius was in a state of finely-controlled rage, as we 'apparated' to Castle LeStrange, Rudolphus' crumbling ruin that he called a family home. Lucius put on a 'good face' though as Lord Voldemort was to be an honored guest, and would actually be performing the ceremony at Rudolphus' request. I didn't realize at the time, that Lucius had just been granted his Dark Mark, as a reward for offering ME up as a virgin sacrifice to Voldemorts' plan."

"You see, Bellatrix wasn't like you've seen her now—not then. Then she was young, exotically beautiful, and deadly powerful; a true Black goddess of a witch. Lucius was desperately in love with her; she'd been his school sweetheart for years, and he'd offered for her first before LeStrange ever did. But dear Lucius just wasn't powerful enough to suit her ambitions, so she'd begged and wheedled her parents until they finally consented to her marriage to LeStrange."

"With one condition; the Marriage Contract HAD to be consummated before midnight on their wedding night, or it would be invalidated. You see, her parents thought that would free her, and she'd come to her senses and accept Lucius. Everyone KNEW that LeStranges' tastes ran to pre-pubescent Muggle boys. He'd NEVER shown any interest in a woman before, and they didn't believe he even could consummate the marriage."

Severus shuddered, and went silent for several minutes. It was Harry who prodded him to continue with his story by asking, "So that's when the Consummation Time-Limit Clause was added to Marriage Contracts?" He went suddenly dry-mouthed when Severus turned painfully haunted eyes to meet his own emerald ones. Harry thought, 'Merlin's Balls! What HAPPENED for him to carry that much pain inside?'

"The actual ceremony went fine," Severus said in a voice of bitterest derision. "The bride was TRULY beautiful, even if the bridegroom DID look more like Nosferatu than a happy wizard getting married to the catch of the year. The wedding feast was enormous, the wine, champagne, and punch flowing like water. I had actually begun to enjoy myself, especially when the Dark Lord singled me out with a bit of flattery and false praise, and handed me a glass of punch his very own self. I hadn't drunk it down more than five minutes when I began to realize that Voldemort had drugged me. He DRUGGED me, with Lucius standing right there smiling all the while!"

"Just how I got upstairs, and into the bridal chamber, I still can't remember to this very day. But there I was, sixteen and deeply under the influence of the strongest lust potion I've ever experienced, with a voluptuously naked Bellatrix spread out on the bed like butter on hot toast. LeStrange came into the room, and I thought surely I was a dead Half-blood, but he just handed me a potion bottle and ordered me to drink it."

"It was a polyjuice potion to transform me into LeStrange, and even I've never been able to exactly duplicate it. Old Rudolphus had his secrets, but whatever changes he'd made; it produced a complete enough transfiguration that it satisfied the consummation clause the Ministry had imposed, after Bellatrix was done with me. Lord Voldemort rewarded Bellatrix with her Dark Mark for 'screwing me over', literally, that very night. Lucius returned me to Hogwarts that same night, and it was nearly four months before he'd even look at me, much less speak to me. Even though HE was the one to offer me up like the fatted calf."

Severus finally fell silent. Both Remus and Harry just sat there, all three of them staring down at the little spider crawling across the cold flagstone floor. Harry finally cleared his throat, and said, "Hermiones' afraid of spiders." Severus lifted a booted foot and instantly crushed the poor thing into a gooey puddle of spider guts. It was Remus who realized that Severus needed to be alone, and have a chance to come to grips with his past, and so he rose to his feet attracting Harrys' attention. Harry also stood up, and they thanked Severus for dinner before bidding him to have a good night.

The two Gryffindors left the dungeons, and began their climb back up all those stairs to reach Gryffindor Tower, and their respective beds. Although they both would find it difficult to fall asleep for different reasons, they bid each other good night and pleasant dreams. During the long climb, Harry had thought about everything he'd heard that night and had decided that even if he had to shag Poppy Pomfrey, at least he wouldn't become a werewolf from it. And Sweet Merciful Merlin! It REALLY wouldn't be as bad as having to do it with bloody Bellatrix LeStrange!

---------------------------End Chapter Ten-------------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I am not J. K., and I own nothing! Please bear in mind that this is an AU, and if anything doesn't exactly fit 'canon', in imitation of Hagrid, "Sorry 'bout that!" This is my AU, my story; I invite you to just come along, enjoy the ride, and as always, your reviews are welcome. Rating suggested: DEFINITELY M! Strong language, slash references, and some graphic sexual content, as we are about to explore the mysteries of sex magick. Don't complain. You were warned!

Chapter Eleven: Midnight Moves; or, Even the Gods Have Sex, Too

Ron was sitting on Harrys' bed, waiting for him to get in. He began trying to apologize for that afternoon in the forest, but he turned into just another 'Poor me 'ickle Ronnikins' story, and Harry just lost his cool.

"Piss off, Ronald. Just leave it!" Harry hatefully said through his clenched teeth. When Ron failed to comply immediately, Harry screamed at him, "GET OUT! Get out of my 'filthy Half-blood' sight, Weasley, or by Merlins' Balls, I WON'T be responsible for what happens. And I'd be careful with my morning pumpkin juice if I were you. Potion bottles have been known to tip some pretty nasty surprises in there."

Ron swallowed hard, quickly got up off Harrys' bed, and left without another single word. Harry hadn't been joking; he'd read it in those icy emerald eyes. He'd been in SERIOUS danger there for a minute!

Harry jerked off his trainers, and threw them angrily against the wall—first one and then the other. It didn't make him feel any better. He stood up in his sock feet, crossed over to take a seat on the window ledge, and stared up at the nearly full moon. In two more nights it would be completely full, falling on Beltane eve and the night of the sex magick ritual.

Movement coming from the Dark Forest attracted his attention, and he glanced down. It was the girls coming back from their nightly lessons on the Olde Magicks with Mab, and wait a minute—Harry pulled off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on to have another look—yes, yes they were! The girls were all GLOWING, like they were lit up with an internal 'lumos'. 'By all the gods! What POWER they must be tapped into!' thought Harry in pure amazement.

Harry suddenly made the mental leap, and everything became crystal clear, as he said out loud, "THAT'S the power my Mum used to save me! That's the power that nearly killed Voldemort last time! Sweet Merlin, if we can—if—I—can use that power, I might just get to live through this war after all!"

One of the girls, the only one with such long blue-black hair, looked up at the window where he was looking down from, and waved up at him. Harry gave a little wave back, sure she hadn't REALLY seen him, when to his surprise she blew a kiss his way. A girl he was certain was Hermione put her arm around the dark girls' shoulder. The two of them appeared to be laughing, as they began running into the castle when it suddenly started to rain.

Harry leant back against the stone window frame, and found to his surprise that he was smiling. His heart felt immeasurably lighter, somehow, and at peace with the world. Harry knew what he had to do. He stood up, padded over to Rons' room in his sock-feet, and softly knocked on the door.

Harry finally heard what sounded like a watery 'Come in', so he did. Yup, 'ickle Ronnikins had been crying, alright. Harry cleared his throat, and said, "Ron, I'll forgive you IF you apologize to Hermione, AND to Severus!"

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron, in a teary voice, complete with snotty sniff. "I really DIDN'T mean it, you know. I don't even know where all of that came from," his voice drifted off, as if he were afraid he'd said too much.

"It's cool, Ron. I'm okay with it now," Harry said shortly. 'Merlins' Balls! Has Ron ALWAYS been this big a baby?' Harry thought to himself, but aloud he sternly added, "I mean it Ron, you've GOT to apologize to Severus first thing in the morning, AND apologize to Hermione when she makes her first appearance of the day with the rest of the girls."

Harry was by this time about to step back through and close Rons' door, when he stopped again to say over his shoulder, "And you might want to apologize to Luna as well, unless you WANT to lose your girlfriend, that is."

Ron said, "Thanks, Harry. And I will, I'll apologize to everyone first thing in the morning." He called through the now shut door, "Good night, Harry!"

Harry called back, "Good night, Ron," and he padded back to his room, to crawl into his bed. Harry was shocked when he awoke later that morning, after unexpectedly dreaming the hottest wet dream of his entire seventeen years, about a dark goddess with amethyst eyes.

Harry went straight to the bathroom, and climbed into a steamy hot shower. As he lathered up, and began to cleanse himself—he couldn't help it—he just had to 'take a hand' on the situation, and brought himself off again in the shower imagining all the while just what he'd like to be doing to Elle, if the opportunity ever came around.

Much to Harrys' embarrassment, of course it WOULD be Draco pounding at the shower stall door shouting for him to 'hurry up, Pothead'. Harry turned off the taps, and stepped out of the shower. Draco passed him a towel, but also took this unexpected opportunity to get an 'eye on the competition', so to speak.

'By all the gods! Potter is hung!' Draco thought to himself, with a new-found respect. He had 'experimented' with Crabbe on just one occasion, when he'd been VERY drunk on a stolen bottle of Old Ogdens' Finest. It was a secret Draco guarded MOST carefully, but Sweet Merlin, Crabbe DID have a great mouth, and what he could do with his TONGUE, ooh! The poor shower got a double-shot that morning, as Draco began to masturbate his own self under the steaming water that rained down on his soapy, muscular, perfectly toned, alabaster body.

Draco thought to himself, not for the first time, that it was something that Mud-bloods, and Half-bloods too for that matter, just couldn't wrap their little minds around. It was just DIFFERENT being a Pure-blood! Draco could swing either way, and be completely comfortable within his own skin.

Gender didn't matter to Pure-bloods; sex was sex, love was love, and pleasure was pleasure. But if it'd gotten out, it would've gotten him disinherited by his father. Not for the first time, Draco thought old Lucius MUST have had some kind of VERY bad experience at some point in his life, because of just how homophobic he had become in his later years.

Draco sighed with the relief his orgasm had brought, rinsed off once more, turned off the taps, and stepped from the shower to towel off. He spelled his shoulder-length white-blond hair dry, used a 'smooth face' charm to remove the morning stubble from his almost too-beautiful face, and brushed his perfect white teeth.

Draco then dressed himself in a fresh pair of jeans, and a blue, silk-and-cotton, very expensive tee-shirt, that made his silver-blue eyes appear even more blue than normal. His eyes always seemed bluer when he was happy, and the prospect of sex magick in two more days made Draco Malfoy extremely happy indeed!

Neville was up, and waiting for his turn in the shower. Draco brushed past him on his way out of the bathroom, saying as he did so, "It's all yours, Sneville! 'See you at breakfast." Draco was already gone before Neville could think up with a suitably snarky come-back, so he let it drop, and just got on with his morning shower routine instead.

When Neville was through, he found that the twins and Ron were all three standing outside the door, waiting impatiently for their turns also. Neville squeezed past them, and headed on down to the Great Hall where breakfast would be waiting for them.

By the time the three Weasleys had showered, dressed, and made it into breakfast, they found that Harry had elected to sit at Severus' right side, while Remus sat at his left side. Draco was unexpectedly sitting on Harrys' other side, instead of it being empty and awaiting Ron. By all the gods, Neville had taken up the place on Remus' other side!

All three Weasleys felt like they were facing an inquisition before the Ministry, with FIVE powerful wizards staring them down as they walked slowly over to the table. Fred shoved Ron with a palm against the back of his hard head, and said, "Well, go on! Get on with it, you git!"

Rons' face was beet-red, but he WAS a Pure-blood and knew all of the proper, correct behaviors, even if he didn't make a habit of practicing them. He stepped forwards, clicked his heels—as well as trainers would 'click' anyways—bowed the exact correct degree respectfully to Severus, and said the proper words, "Professor Snape, sir. I have gone beyond the pale, and offered insult to both you and to Miss Granger. I apologize most sincerely, and I beg your forgiveness. If you wish physical satisfaction, I will attend you at the time and place of your choosing for a duel. The choice is yours, sir." Ronald executed another deep bow to Severus.

Severus sat in stunned silence for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet, to return Rons' bow with a bow of his own—just a couple of degrees short of what was polite—but he replied with the proper response, "I accept your apology, Mister Weasley, for anything you said that might have offended ME personally. However, should Miss Granger still wish satisfaction, you will oblige me in meeting me for a duel."

Severus resumed his seat, and after Ron and the twins were also seated across from them, he blandly spoke again to Ron, as if in after-thought, "Mister Weasley, I sincerely hope for YOUR sake that Hermione accepts your apology. It would pain me most deeply to have to kill the son of a fellow member of the Order."

Ron went as pale as he had been red, and he promptly choked on his first swallow of pumpkin juice. George thumped him a little bit TOO hard on his back, to "help" him catch his breath. Fred met Severus' eyes from across the table, and was stupefied to actually read a glint of humor there because of Rons' reaction.

Fred raised his cup of coffee in a silent toast to Severus. Severus inclined his dark head to Fred, and quickly hid his amusement. It just WOULDN'T do to let Ronald think he'd gotten away with anything, or he probably would just shoot off his mouth again at Hermione, and then Severus would really have to kill him after all.

But then again, Fred HAD learned to appreciate the Slytherin sense of humor because of Erika Bonham, that gorgeous blue-eyed, golden blonde Slytherin who'd captured the absolute whole of his brave Gryffindor heart. He'd been amazed at her powerful abilities, biting wit, and wicked sense of humor.

His brothers' hateful comments had cut Fred to the very quick yesterday, because his Erika was a Half-blood, too. George and Mandy knew, of course, as the twins couldn't keep anything from each other, but now Fred wasn't too sure about telling Ronald. Erika HAD asked him to keep it just between the four of them on their way out of the Forbidden Forest yesterday, and he suddenly decided to do just that. Merlin, it sure was hard being the brother of a prat!

Following breakfast, it was Remus' turn to hold class. Even though all the guys seemed to be accepting of Rons' obviously sincere apologies, Remus didn't completely trust that Severus would be able to restrain himself with the youngest Weasley son.

Remus took the six young wizards out to the Dark Forest to teach them a little of the ninja-style wandage that they would most assuredly be facing going up against the Dark Lord and his Deatheaters. That left Severus the morning free to follow his tai-chi routine in peace, and maybe work off a little of the ferocious anger that Remus could sense still boiling under his too calm exterior.

It also allowed the young wizards a chance to work off a little of the testosterone they'd built up under the 'no sex yet' ban of Mabs', and get in some much needed lessons on 'apparating' and 'disapparating' used to confuse and disorient the enemy in a life-or-death wand fight.

Remus worked them hard for about three hours, until they began to get tired and lazy. That's when he would zap them with a quick, painful, but not really fatal curse. When Ron complained after getting his second zap, Remus jerked him up by his shirt-front, and said, "Do you think Voldemort, or his minions either, will let you call 'time out' once the battle starts, just because YOU are tired? Not bloody likely! I assume that you DO want to live through this, Ronald, am I correct?" At Rons' hasty nod, he let him go.

Remus took a deep breath and let it back out, then said more calmly, "You, ALL of you," he looked around at all the scared, too-young, faces and continued, "HAVE to learn to ignore your aches and pains, because you will surely catch a hit at some point, and to fight past your exhaustion. Push harder, concentrate! What you're learning right now may just save your life, or help you to save someone elses' when push comes to shove."

All six of the young wizards stared hard at Remus, and then at each other, FINALLY understanding that some of them might actually DIE in the battle to come. That was a bitter little pill for them to swallow; when you're young, you're convinced of your own immortality, and death seems like something that always happens to someone else—never to you.

Remus cleared his throat, and only Harry saw the moisture that had gathered in his hazel eyes. "Class is dismissed," he brusquely said, before turning on his heel and striding off deeper into the Forbidden Forest.

"Bloody Hell," murmured Ron. "I guess we really ARE in some deep shit now!" Every single one of the remaining guys nodded in complete agreement with his statement, even Harry Potter himself.

Neville, ever the peace-keeper, said, "Well, we could always do lunch, and come back with a start fresh. Anybody else worked up an appetite, or is it just me?" Harry patted his shoulder, and replied, "I'm pretty thirsty, Nev. Let's go and grab a bite."

Fred and George made a joke of it, but they were truly being sincere when they said in their 'twin-speak', "Yeah, let's go eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die!"

Draco stared at the twins in disbelief, before saying sarcastically, "Merlins' Balls, I'd like a slug of Old Ogden's right now, and screw the tea!" Fred and George snickered, and 'twin-spoke', "We can fix that, Malfoy. We happen to know where a pilfered bottle is stashed back in the Tower. Feel like playing Truth or Dare?"

"You're on! Let's go," Draco announced, with a wicked little smile. "Anybody else got the scrotes to play? Sneville? Weasel? Potty?" Harry bucked up, and answered quickly, "Let's go! Anything YOU can do, I can do better, Malfoy."

And THAT'S what led to all six of them being found snockered off their arses a few hours later in the Gryffindor common room by two irate senior wizards.

Six young wizards were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Fred having fetched the bottle of fire-whiskey and poured up six big glasses. He and George each took the first swallows, and pulled faces against the burning taste of the Old Ogden's. "Well, buggers, drink up!" Fred said, in a choking gasp.

Draco smirked at Harry, picked up his glass, and took a large swig. 'DAMN! I'd forgotten just how badly this shit burns', he thought as he fought to not cough, or pull a face. Somehow, he managed to keep it together, and as he watched, Harry picked up his own glass and took a large gulp.

Harry suddenly coughed and spluttered, as the fire-whiskey lit his mouth and throat up like a blow-torch. Draco watched in grim satisfaction as Harrys' eyes watered up and his nose began to run. "What's wrong, Potty? Not 'man' enough to run with the big boys?" Draco snarkily asked him, having finally regained his own breath. "You wish, Malfoy," Harry wheezed, and gallantly took another, smaller sip of the obnoxious fluid.

"I don't think I can do this," said Neville, doubtfully eyeing his glass of reddish liquor. Draco swiveled around to penetrate him with a superior look. "I knew you weren't ready to be a man yet, Sneville! How're you going to perform your 'manly duties' in two more days, if you're still a little boy?" Draco taunted. Neville puffed himself up, reached for his glass, and took a swallow that he promptly spewed out. He tried again, and managed to actually choke a sip down this time.

George lifted up his glass, raised it in a toast to Ron saying as he did so, "Cheers, brother!", and knocked back a large enough of a swig that Ron KNEW that it wasn't Georges' first experience with hard liquor. Ron reached out, picked up his own glass, and said, "Cheers, and all," before taking a small sip himself.

SEVERAL sips, swallows, coughs, and gags later, all of them were MIGHTY relaxed indeed. That's when the 'game' began, Truth or Dare—about each of their 'first REAL time'.

Draco spun the now empty fire-whiskey bottle and it stopped pointing to George. "What's it to be, truth, or dare, George?" Draco asked. "The truth shall set me free," said George, "so 'Truth'."

Thus the quieter of the twins, George, went first. "You all remember the Yule Ball?" At the chorus of tipsy nods, he continued, "I had asked Angelina Johnson to the Ball, remember? Well, Fred and I were sixteen and determined that we'd get laid that night—sort of make it memorable, so to speak. She snuck me into her room while the ball was still going on, and well, we started snogging, and petting."

"The next thing I knew, somehow her hand had found its' way inside my trousers. I MIGHT have put it there, I don't know; it's kind of blurry 'cause we'd spiked the punch as the evening wore on to liven things up a bit. After that, it seemed like we were suddenly naked, and in Angelinas' bed going at it like rabbits. It was GREAT! I really fell hard for Angelina you know, and had fully intended to marry her. We were each others' first, you know."

George gave a sad, watery smile, and finished with, "But her father married her off at seventeen to a distant cousin in Australia, to get her as far away from You-Know-Who, and the coming battle, as possible. Last I heard, she was happy and expecting a baby later this summer."

Fred was sitting at Georges' left side, so that meant he went next. "Truth, Malfoy," he selected quickly. "Lost mine that same night to Penelope Clearwater, the girl Percy wanted and couldn't pluck up the courage to ask to the ball. I knew right away that I wasn't her first, but it felt REALLY good, and MERCY Penelope could kiss! But she kind of put me off about half-way through, when she moaned 'Percy' while I was riding her like a broom. It took me a long time before I ever wanted to try it with anybody else. 'Kind of takes the bloom off the rose to realize you're 'going' where your prat of a BROTHER has been before!"

Draco was next, and said firmly and simply, "Truth." Every ones' ears pricked up, eager to learn every scrap they could about how Malfoys do it. Dracos' blurry gaze turned inward, and he said in tones of deepest self-derision, "I can beat 'going where big brothers' been, Fred. How 'bout going where your FATHER had been?" There was a collective gasp of horrified shock, and it was Ron who bravely asked the unspeakable, "Surely, Malfoy, not your MUM!"

"NO! You sick, twisted PERVERT! It was with my fathers' stupid Muggle mistress, Noreen!" Draco answered in a sudden huff. Draco didn't take any shit from ANYONE where his Mum was concerned!

"It was summer break, and I'd just turned fourteen, and somehow or other, old Lucius got it in his head that I was a 'fairy' after he found out that Granger had punched me and I hadn't killed her. He took me to the Muggle-side of London late one night, to a rather posh flat. My Mum had always THOUGHT my father was having affairs, but I didn't REALLY believe his tastes actually ran toward Muggles until that night. The door was answered by a rather beautiful, dark-haired girl named Noreen. Looking back on it, I can see clearly that she was just a cheap Bellatrix-look-a-like."

"The minute we were inside her flat, Lucius 'imperio'd Noreen, and dragged both of us upstairs into her bedroom. He ordered me to strip naked, her as well, and stood over us the whole time, critiquing my 'performance' and shouting orders about what to do next. It felt both good and horrible at the same time, and when I'd FINALLY managed to 'get it up and keep it up' and bring off the orgasm he was screaming for me to, he used the 'Killing Curse' on her."

Draco raised haunted eyes to scan the others, before continuing with a story NOBODY now wanted to hear. "It'll really put you off the train, when you get your very first rocks off inside a stiff. My second time was better. It was on the night of the Yule Ball, just like the twins, with another Slytherin in my room after the dance." He just didn't mention that it was with Crabbe. Let them think whatever they wanted to.

"Merlins Balls! Draco, man, I'm sorry for you," breathed Ron. Dracos' eyes flashed icy-silver with anger at them all, but mostly at his own self, as he snarled, "I don't need your pity, Weasel! What's done is done, but now you all know the reason I don't like being called 'Mister Malfoy'. That's my fathers' name! I prefer just 'Draco'. Hells bells, I even prefer 'Ferret' to THAT name!"

"Okay, Ferret. So who was your second time, then, Pansy Parkinson?" asked Ron. Draco stared disbelievingly at him, and then burst out laughing as he said, "By all the gods, NO, Weaselby! I might BE as randy as a rabbit, but even I refused to 'boldly go where EVERY man has gone before'! Alright then, 'fess up, Weasel, truth or dare?"

Ron looked like he was about to be sick, but he bravely said, "Truth, Ferret. Just like Fred said, 'the truth shall set me free', maybe. It was Fred and Georges' fault anyway! They locked me in the third floor broom closet with Pansy Parkinson at the start of our fifth year, and it was more like a rushed-up rape job rather than 'doing it', with Pansy as the rapist."

Both twins were sniggering now, and then explained in their 'twin-speak', "Bloody cow had a fantasy about shagging both of us at the same time! So we bribed her with the promise of a 'double-header' IF she'd pop 'ickle Ronnikins cherry. Yeah, it was hell avoiding old Pans' for the rest of the year until we managed to get expelled, that is."

Ron shot a dirty look at his sneaky brothers, and continued, "But it was MUCH better with Lavender Brown. She might have had a bit more experience than me, but at least she wasn't the school slag, like Pansy freaking Parkinson! Lavender taught me a thing or three about how to take my time, and how to make sure that it was as good for her as it was for me. For that alone I'll always be grateful to her."

"Your turn Sneville," said Draco with a knowing, hopeful grin, "truth or dare?" Neville could barely raise his head up off of the floor, where he'd felt that it was suddenly necessary to lie down, and press his head against the cool, cool flagstone floor. "Truth," Neville slurred, "what the hell! I'm a virgin, alright, Fff—'hick'—ferret! I've only ever kissed two girls in my whole life, and BOTH of them kissed ME first! So THERE! Sue me, or screw me, but just leave me alone!" He moaned, and gurgled with little gagging sounds that DEFINITELY boded ill for the future state of the cleanliness of said floor.

All eyes turned towards Harry Potter in breathless anticipation, except for poor Neville, who was trying desperately to hold his shit together. "Well your turn, so truth, or dare, Potty?" Draco said, licking his perfect lips in anticipation, just waiting to hear Harrys' own confession.

Harry slowly raised himself up from where he'd slouched down in the chair he was occupying. His eyes blearily searched his friends' faces, and then he rubbed a slack hand over them as he asked Draco, "What if I say 'dare'?" His vision suddenly cleared, and he read his nemesis' plan clear as day, before Draco replied, "Then I'd have to set the most horrible 'dare' you can imagine."

"Well, the most HORRIBLE dare I can imagine would be to have to kiss YOU, Ferret! So just like Neville, I'll admit to it. I'm a bloody virgin, alright! I don't even have a CLUE how to make the shift from snogging to bedding a girl! I mean, I've had the chance offered before, but shagging my best friends' little sister seemed just plain wrong some how. So there, NOW you know, so just leave me alone," Harry finally managed to angrily confess.

"Damn, Potter! And I SO wanted to 'french' you! I was positive that you'd NEVER admit your virginity, even though it shines like 'lumos' from you," Draco snarkily said. And with this comment and the 'mental image' it produced in his mind, Neville DID promptly lose his shit, as he hurled all over the nice, clean, cool, cool floor! And THIS was the point at which Remus and Severus came in to call them down to tea, and instead had found the six of them drunk as lords.

Severus came back into the Gryffindor common room, after stealthily slipping down to his potions storage room to retrieve six vials of 'Sober-Up Solution'. Remus had meanwhile used an 'eradicatus' spell to clean up the mess and stench from the floor, and had then put a reeking Neville, clothes and all—and none too gently—into a cold shower to hose him off. As soon as Severus had administered the 'Sober-up Solution' to each of them, six very embarrassed young wizards were instantly sober—the powerful potion immediately working its' magic.

Severus quite rightly knew JUST who to blame for the fiasco; Draco and the irrepressible Weasley twins. He drew himself up, so that some how it seemed as if he were eight feet tall. Severus loomed oppressively over them with SUCH a grim look on his countenance, that they ALL felt like first-years in their very first Potions class again. But after several long seconds of staring down his prominent nose at them, the only thing he derisively said was, "Well, GENTLEMEN, I sincerely HOPE you've learned your lesson on THIS subject! I hesitate to remind you all, but you'd do well to remember that LADIES prefer a SOBER mate to a drunkard. And every female here is a true LADY and currently downstairs waiting for you right now, so off you go."

Shamefacedly, they stood and began shuffling past both a grim Severus and a disappointed-looking Remus in a single-file. Severus stopped Ron with the words, "Mister Weasley, you haven't forgotten about your apology to Miss Granger, have you? She's at tea right now with the others, and I would SO like to be present, given what has occurred here today."

At Rons' fierce blush, and head-bob of agreement, Severus let him slink past him. It was only after all six of the guilty-faced young wizards had left, that Remus and Severus had looked each other directly in the eye, and BURST out laughing!

Once they had all gotten downstairs to their tea in the Great Hall, Ronald Weasley—under Severus' sternly watchful black eyes—approached Hermione, and made all the proper bows, and spoke the required stilted phrasing to FORMALLY apologize for his hateful, rude comments of the preceding afternoon.

Hermione glanced at Severus. He gave her a glittering obsidian twinkle, and the barest inclination of his head to let her know that he'd already received his part of this pretty little speech. So Hermione forgave Ron with all of her loving Gryffindor heart, and a huge smile that the 'Golden Trio' really was all together once again.

Severus sat down beside Remus and Harry, under Minervas' cold stare, which changed to stern disapproval when Hermione got up and went to sit at his other side, and began to chat with him as if he were her best friend.

"Miss Granger," Minerva McGonagall addressed her directly, "Are you quite aware of ALL that Mister Snape has done, besides murdering Albus? If not, I should be more than happy to inform you right now."

Severus was having none of this shit again today, and he stared down his long nose at Minerva as he ascerbically said, "Yes, MISS McGonagall. She DOES know EVERYTHING about me. I felt it incumbent upon me to inform her myself, when she first offered her friendship to me. I wished to spare her feelings learning it from anyone else. However, if you doubt me, PLEASE feel free to say anything you wish. I'm sure that Hermione will understand."

Remus had reached over to lightly touch Severus' arm, to remind him not to say too much, just as Severus had begun this little speech. But he needn't have bothered, because Hermione looked straight at Minerva as she added to Severus' snarky little speech, "Professor McGonagall, I have ALWAYS respected your opinion, and value it still, but Severus has spoken the truth. He HAS told me everything about his past. He held NOTHING back from me—even the things that I realize he'd rather have kept secret—because they painted him in such bad light."

Minerva huffed, "You don't know what you're saying, Miss Granger! You're just a CHILD after all! And Severus Snape is a DEATHEATER! Albus never would see it or admit it to himself, but there it is, and there is no helping for it."

It was a great shock to Minervas' nervous system that their would-be savior, Harry Potter, also turned on his former Head of House, derisively saying, "Professor McGonagall, Severus Snape is no more a Deatheater than I am! And whether or not you'll ever admit it to yourself, he's not a murderer either. He was under the influence of the Imperious Curse, cast by Albus Dumbledore his own self—no less! If ANYONE is the injured party in all that, it's Severus himself. Professor Dumbledore USED him as part of some plan, just the same as he has used ME, and everyone else!"

"MISTER POTTER!" Minerva said in a shocked tone that the Boy-Who-Lived would actually buck her authority, and over Severus Snape at that! It was with an unsettling feeling that she was finally certain that little Harry had REALLY grown up and become a man. She simply pursed her lips so tightly together that they looked completely bloodless, and refused to speak another word to anybody else.

After a very uncomfortable tea, everyone took their leave to have their dueling lessons, leaving Minerva McGonagall seated in solitary splendor and staring bitterly into her now cold cup, her back rigidly straight and her gaze deeply introspective.

Ron called after Luna, who was walking out with Elle, Harry, Hermione, Remus, and Snape, "Wait up Luna! Will you PLEASE slow down? It's kinda hard to apologize to your back, and all!"

Luna froze in her tracks, and turned her pale eyes toward Ron. They were so full of hurt that it made Rons' heart ache, too. But she waited for him, and let him fall into step beside her. This simple act gave Ron hope that everything between them would somehow come right in the end. He began to tell her just how very sorry he was, and just how big a git he'd been.

Luna stopped again, faced Ron when he stopped also, and said, "Yes, Ronald. I know that you are truly a childish arse, a hateful git, and a bloody prat to boot. But I will still forgive you, if you promise me to NEVER say anything like that again. You're better than that!"

Ron went down on both knees, took her slim white hands into his big rough ones, and reverently kissed each of her tiny, perfect knuckles. She smiled her strange little smile, then bent over and placed a tender kiss on his lips. Ron stood back up, grinning like an idiot, put his arm around her shoulders, and they started following after the others again.

Harry cleared his throat a couple of times, and finally screwed up the courage to ask Elle to be his dueling partner. Usually Elle and Hermione paired up, and Harry had been alternately dueling Remus or Severus since he needed to not have to 'hold anything back'.

Severus looked across the top of the girls' heads, and actually WINKED at Harry to his utter amazement. Severus slid his long arm around Hermiones' own shoulders, and softly growled into her ear, "You won't mind partnering with ME, will you Hermione?" The look on Hermiones' face as she smiled up at Severus echoed the very similar look Elle was smiling up at Harry with, as each girl whispered to their selected other-halves the single word, "Yes."

They all practiced until dusk had begun to fall, then left heading back off to the castle paired up two by two. If a kiss was stolen or given by ANYONE, by mutual unspoken consent everyone looked the other way, and no-one mentioned ANYTHING about it. And so supper was their most pleasant meal of that day, especially since Minerva had decided to dine alone in her quarters that night.

As the girls all left to prepare for their nightly lessons with Mab, Poppy turned to the males present, and said, "Gentlemen, I would suggest that you go bathe, and make yourselves presentable, also. Queen Mab requests an audience with you also tonight, to clear the path in readiness for the Ritual of Power in two moons time. You will all need to be ready to accompany us in two hours. Meet us at the verge of the Dark Walk at the edge of the Dark Forest, and gentlemen—don't be late!" Poppy abruptly turned on her heel, and left them all standing open-mouthed in surprise.

"Well, Severus, what do you suppose this is all about?" asked Remus, saying out loud what was on the minds of all six of the younger wizards. Severus, who was just as surprised as all of the others, replied, "I have no idea. But I believe we had better ALL do as Poppy has said."

Severus left them in the Great Hall with those words echoing in their minds, moving with his usual long strides—black robes billowing—towards his chambers. HE had no intention of being even one second late, not to meet a legend like Queen Mab!

So it was that eight couples took the pathway to the ancient circle of standing stones, as the nearly-full moon was beginning to rise in the night sky. Remus was walking beside Poppy, Severus fell into step beside Hermione, Harry with Elle, Ron with Luna, Draco with Miranda, Fred with Erika, George with Mandy, and Neville with Gillian bringing up the rear.

When they came to the enchanted meadow, the sacred bonfire was blazing like a beacon and they were all drawn into the circle like moths to a candle. The rising moon finally touched the tallest stone, opening the gateway through which Mab could enter their world once more, and she stepped out of the stone with a crack of thunder.

Mab smiled craftily as she danced and twirled around each of the couples, seeming much pleased with all the pairs that the Old Magicks had drawn together. Then she stopped in front of Harry, sniffed him and hissed, "UNCLEAN! Hartorius, son of Lily, you carry a piece of the Evil One inside you. It must be purged from you before the ritual, or Order will be defeated and this world will cease to be! You ARE the Chosen One. It is YOUR destiny to destroy the Evil One! How can this be, that HE has contaminated your very SOUL? This cannot be that for which my daughter Lily paid the Ultimate Price! Chaos has intervened here with the Warrior of Order, trying to claim you for Its' own—and so I am able to intervene for Orders' sake."

Mab then was instantly in front of Severus, and ordered him, "Taliesian, my son, YOU must do what is necessary, or Chaos will come to rule. There IS a way to destroy the Evil One, and at the same time to save the Chosen One. Do you remember the old legends, my son? Do you remember the legend of the Serpent and the Unicorn?" Severus whispered in awe, "But THAT is just a fairy-tale!"

Mab gave a merry laugh, which sounded like peals of rolling thunder to all present, and answered, "And what am I? What are ALL magicks except 'fairy-tales', my son? If you are successful, it will be within my power to offer you a boon beyond what any of the others can receive—even Hartorius. My son, what I offer is no small thing! If you ask it of me, I can give you immortality, or unimaginable power to last until your dying day, even recall the dead at your bidding!"

Mab looked slyly at Severus, as she watched the thoughts swiftly racing through his mind. He bowed a courtly, reverent bow to this Goddess, and spoke the binding words, "So mote it be, my Queen."

Severus KNEW that Mab was sometimes a cruel goddess. He'd thought to himself that her promises of rewarding him bore a great deal of resemblance to a Muggle story called 'The Monkeys' Paw' that he'd read as a teenager.

'Yes, madam, grant me immortality—and I will probably be turned into a vampire; unimaginable power until I DIE thirty seconds later; or recall the dead, and it will just be a walking, rotting corpse with no soul or spark of the person left at all. But I think I might just have a wish that won't carry a twisted warp with the fulfilling,' Severus thought to himself and grimly smiled, with a devilish twist to his lip.

Mab went around the circle of couples, inspecting each of the prospective Warriors of Order. All the rest she seemed pleased with, and was just totally enchanted with Remus Lupin—whom she had called her 'child of nature'—with real affection in her voice.

Severus wickedly smiled to himself at this turn of events, and was suddenly SURE that she'd grant the wish he'd selected in his mind with no unfortunate repercussions. That was IF he could manage to successfully kill Harry Potter, and then bring him back to life!

After all present had sworn to obey Mabs' orders of meditation and fasting in preparation for the coming ritual, she let everyone go for the night so that Severus could do what was necessary to finally cleanse Harry of the Dark Lords' shadow forever.

As they began walking back to the castle, Harry touched Severus lightly on the arm, and jerked his head towards a faint path that branched off to their right. Severus and Hermione automatically slowed their pace, and turned to follow Harry and Elle down that way. It led to that place on the lake where Harry had produced the amazing Patronus that had once saved both Sirius Black and him.

Harry stopped still, as he remembered the godfather he still missed, and his emerald eyes shone with unshed tears. Elle caught his scarred hand, raised it to her lips and ever so gently kissed it where 'I must not tell lies' was still visible.

Harrys' breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly pulled her tightly into his arms, kissing her deeply for all he was worth. Elspeth Wilde truly lived up to her name, as her arms slid around Harrys' neck, her slim, pale fingers tangling in his unruly dark hair, pulling him even closer as she melted into his embrace, kissing him back just as passionately as he had EVER fantasized about.

Severus arched an eyebrow at Hermione, and she smiled at him before leaning into him for a snogging session of their very own. 'The gods are truly merciful', thought Severus the instant their lips met, since he just KNEW it might be his very last opportunity to feel her in his arms—especially if he killed Harry, and then found that he couldn't resurrect him. It hadn't worked on Albus, and he truly couldn't figure out exactly WHERE it'd gone wrong. He reluctantly broke away from Hermiones' sweet lips, sighed, and leant his forehead to rest it against hers.

"Hermione, do you remember your 'apparation' lessons?" Severus asked her softly. Before she had the chance to blow-up with indignation that SHE might actually have forgotten her lessons, he dove in for another quick kiss on her parted lips to silence her. "Yes, I know that you remember, my love," he quietly said, and continued, "We need to take Harry and Elspeth to the Serpents' Garden, NOW, tonight. We have to do what Mab has ordered. I'll take Harry, and you can bring her."

Harry and Elle broke apart, and he turned to look at Severus—complete understanding of just WHAT must happen shining in his emerald eyes—and said, "I'm ready now, Severus. I trust you." Elle just looked bewildered, the same as Hermione, but willing to go with him to face whatever was coming.

Severus took hold of Harrys' arm, and without another word 'apparated' both of them away. Hermione grabbed Elles' hand, and instantly 'apparated' the two of them right behind Severus and Harry. They were suddenly standing in the mosaic circle on the pathway in the Serpents' Garden. The pleasant, warm breeze wafted around the four of them heavy with the scent of fruit and flowers.

"Harry, THIS is where we were for those three weeks! I'm SO glad you're finally getting to see it," Hermione excitedly said, as she launched herself against him in a bear-hug. Elle just stared around her in wonder, finding everything beautiful and exotic and surprisingly pleasing to all her senses.

Severus just stared down at the gravel of the pathway, glowing whitely in the moonlight. He couldn't look at any of them. After ALL the unspeakable things he'd done on Voldemorts' orders—and on Dumbledores' commands too, for that matter—THIS was the hardest thing he'd ever been asked to do. He TRULY felt like the murdering bastard everyone called him, but steeled himself to the task before him.

Hermione had noticed how deathly quiet Severus had become, having felt his mental withdrawal from them, and turned to him asking, "Severus? Severus, are you all right?" He visibly shook himself, and answered her with a smooth lie, "Yes, Hermione. I'm fine, just going over things in my head, love." He motioned them over to Salazars' alchemy tower, and pulled the heavy silver chain out of his collar revealing the key. Severus unlocked the door, and with happy memories twisting his guts into knots, he magically lit the heavy iron chandelier once again.

Severus strode over to a high shelf, pulled down a small, rectangular, ornate silver chest engraved with the initials 'SDS', and opened it with a wandless magic wave of one ivory, long-fingered hand. Resting inside the little chest lay a unicorn horn, still glowing its' soft phosphorescent silvery light.

"Your salvation, Potter," he said brusquely. "However I must warn you, that it didn't work for Albus. It's very possible that it may not work for YOU as well, even with Mabs' intervention."

"What do you mean, Severus?" Harry asked him. "What's this about it not working for Dumbledore?"

Severus rubbed a weary hand across his eyes, glad for a chance to finally confess to Hermione and her blood-bind brother. He slowly began the story, "You know that Albus was poisoned, and dying. I had become desperate to find an antidote to heal him, and remembered the medieval potions texts about the efficacy of unicorn horn against all manner of poisons. Albus, himself, had allowed me to harvest the horn of a slaughtered unicorn your first year here at Hogwarts, before Hagrid buried the poor things' body."

He actually looked into Harrys' eyes for an instant, before continuing on with the tale, "Fawkes donated four vials of his tears. There are only two left now, because I tried an infusion of ground unicorn horn mixed with phoenix tears on Albus. Twice! It SHOULD have worked! I followed Al-Hassars' receipe exactly, but it made no difference. Albus just continued to sink closer to death, minute by minute. I've went over it a thousand times in my mind, and I STILL can't determine where I went wrong."

Elle had slipped closer to her former Head-of-House while he'd been talking to stare in wonder at the shining horn, resting on its' velvet bed. She'd been listening in fascination to this story, when suddenly she cried out, "But Severus, in all the old legends, the unicorn horn MUST be ground, mixed, and administered by the hands of a virgin, or it loses its' healing power!"

The penny dropped for Severus, and he suddenly felt as unlearned as an extremely slow first-year Hufflepuff. His face flushed a deep red with unexpected embarrassment, as he wondered just HOW he could've been so STUPID!

"Well then, problem solved," said Harry, cheerfully. "I'll grind the horn, and mix the potion myself. Who knew that being a virgin would EVER come in so handy?" Hermione looked from Harry to Severus and back, before she asked, "And just WHY, may I ask, do we have a need for the 'perfect' cure for poisoning?"

Harry smiled at her, and she felt it coming, but didn't want to actually hear the words, as he cheerfully said, "Because Severus has to kill me to destroy the Horacrux inside me, and this will bring me back!" Hermione was shaking her head slowly back and forth in denial, her mouth working like a goldfish, as she silently backed away from both wizards. "NO!" she finally managed to scream at them. "No, Harry! What if it doesn't work? What if you're REALLY dead, and there IS no coming back? What will we do then?"

Harry rushed over to wrap his arms around his blood-sister, and pulled her tight against him as he quietly answered, "Then my final wish is for Severus to COMPLETELY destroy my body, so that no part of it can ever be found and used to resurrect Tom Riddle ever again; and for him to protect YOU, no matter WHAT it takes—up to and including—your having to take the Dark Mark yourself, Hermione, and serve other side with him in the event that we lose this war. With Severus' name, and his protection, you should be safe. I can rest peacefully knowing that YOU are safe."

Harry met Severus' haunted stare with one of his own, and the older wizard asserverated, "You have my Unbreakable Promise, Harry. I will do what you have asked of me in the event of your death. I will completely destroy your body. No trace of it will EVER be found. And I will protect your sister with all of my powers, even at the cost of my very life. I swear this, by all the gods of nature and magick."

So it was that Harry was left in the alchemy chamber with Severus mixing the 'cure', and Hermione and Elle were sent to the Chamber of Secrets to fetch the means of his death—the teeth of the basilisk.

Hermione used Severus' heavy silver key that he'd given her, to unlock a door very similar to the outer door to Salazars' private rooms. The ornate serpent-lock hissed at her, but she bravely risked the near-bite to fit the snake-tongue of the key into its' mouth and tumbled the ancient lock, scraping loose decades of rusty disuse with its' turning. The thick wooden door protested its' opening with a groaning creak, but it did pull open with Hermione and Elle's combined tugging.

There was a second stairway a little way down the damp, dank hall that led downwards. Elle held her wand aloft, its' tip glowing brightly with 'lumos', matching Hermiones' own wandlight with a secondary comforting brightness amidst the gloom. They eventually came to the bottom of moss-slick steps, and found themselves standing in a shallow pool of the darkest water they'd ever seen.

There in front of them was a massive circular door, its' brachus of serpents defiantly hissing, refusing to allow their entrance. Hermione searched diligently for a keyhole, or any kind of locking mechanism, to no avail. She stamped her foot with frustration, and softly said, "Damn! Well, this is as far as we can go without Harry. When I first saw this, I was afraid that it was the same entry Harry had told me and Ron about. It can only be opened by a Parsel-Mouth, so we'll just have to go back for him."

Elle stopped Hermione with a touch, and the words, "Hermione? Why did Harry ask Severus to look after you, but he didn't even mention ME?"

Hermione looked at Elle, and realized that the exotically beautiful, dark girl was truly upset about it; and even though it was well-masked, one might could even say she was 'jealous' of the whole situation.

Hermione spoke in even, measured tones as she explained, "It's because you are what you are, Elle. You're a Pure-blood, and related to too many prominent wizarding families to count; you're also a Slytherin, and THAT carries a prestige and protection of its' very own in the Dark Lords' views. Harry KNOWS that you'll be safe. On the other hand, I am a Mud-blood, and one of the 'Golden Trio', as well as Harrys' adopted sister. I'll probably last as long as a snowflake in July if Harry falls, and Tom Riddle wins."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I keep forgetting YOUR situation, and what will happen to everyone else Harry has ever cared for if we fail. I guess I must seem pretty petty, wouldn't you say?" Elle said, shame-facedly. Hermione just gave her an understanding smile, and a comforting pat on her slender arm as she said, "Of course, not, Elle! It's natural that you'd want to hear from Harry just how much he cares for you, and if he comes through this trial, I'll tell him just how big a prat he was to you about it all."

"Hermione?" Elle hesitantly asked. "My mum made me give her an Unbreakable Promise when I was five years old, to hide something about myself and never reveal it to ANYONE." She glanced over at Hermione through veiled lashes, and whispered, "I trust that if I asked YOU to never tell a soul, you'd die before you revealed my secret. My mum is dead now, and I believe that releases me from my promise to her. If it will help Harry, I'll tell you my deepest, darkest secret."

Hermione wondered just what could possibly be SO bad that Olivia Prince Wilde would've asked such an extreme promise from such a small child. As she patiently waited, it seemed like Elle tried and failed several times to be able to tell Hermione whatever it was she'd hidden all these years. Elle finally gave up with a sigh of frustration, and instead crossed over to the circular door and addressed the serpent brachus in a slow, hissing cadence.

The serpents stilled their hissing, and obediently began their slithering motions that allowed the locking tumblers of the vault to click open in the proper sequence, and the door swung open to reveal the innermost part of the Chamber of Secrets.

"You can speak Parsel-tongue, too!" Hermione gasped in astonishment. Elle admitted it, with a hint of shame in her voice, "Yes, but please, Hermione, never tell ANYONE! My mum feared just what my fate might become if You-Know-Who ever learned that a Pure-blood, female Parsel-Mouth was available. I have only recently become aware of what Mum was afraid of."

Elle turned miserable, violet eyes to her, and continued, "I'll probably end up enslaved, just the brood-mare of the Dark Lord, and I'll DIE before I'll let THAT happen! Hermione, I think I really HAVE fallen in love with Harry! When he kissed me tonight, something burst into life in my heart unlike anything I've ever felt before."

"But you're a Parsel-Mouth, Elle! Harry has the right to know," Hermione said, before adding, "but I will respect your confidence, and keep your secret. Just promise me that once everything is over, and the war is won, that you'll tell Harry." Elle swore that she would, and the girls went through the thick metal door to get what they'd come for.

An hour or so later, the two witches and two wizards were sitting in Salazars' private bedchamber on the massive bed softly talking about what must happen next. Severus got up, put some kind of sweet-smelling herbs and incense into the hanging copper burners, and lit them with a gentle touch of his wand. Soon, a thin, sweet veil of smoke hovered in the air around them.

Elle braced her slender back against the headboard, and Harry lay down and slid back until his head was resting in her lap. Hermione sat on Harrys' left side, squeezing his hand so hard that her knuckles were blanched white. Severus came back, and sat down at Harrys' right side. He held out his hand, encased in a dragon-hide glove, and Hermione, also wearing a dragon-hide glove, passed the large, curved fang she'd pulled from the skeletal mouth of the rat-scavenged carcass of the dead basilisk.

Severus' hand was trembling, and he willed it to be still. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still harsh with emotion as he asked, "Harry, are you ready? Do you pray?"

Harry, who had stared death in the face for seven long years, looked at Severus with pity in his scared eyes for a moment, and then he said, "I only know one prayer. Aunt Petunia taught it to Dudley and me when we were toddlers."

Severus' eyes locked onto Harrys', and he gently said, "Now might be a good time to offer it up, then." He laid his empty long-fingered hand over Harrys' eyes, so like Lilys' that he couldn't bear the stare, as he drew the deadly fang back and took careful aim directly at Harrys' scar.

"Now I lay me down to sleep," whispered Harry, unmanning Severus with the simple Muggle childhood prayer. 'Merlin, help me!' thought Severus, suddenly full of hatred for his own self, and swearing to himself that when all this shit was done and the war was won, he'd NEVER again do ANYTHING he didn't want to do just because he'd been ordered to!

As Harry continued his prayer, Severus stiffened his back and took his aim again, and on the word 'amen' he plunged the fang directly into the center of the famous dark lightning-bolt scar that had so defined Harry Potters' entire lifetime.

Harry flinched and half-rolled, as the deadly poison he'd experienced once before again coursed throughout his body, and he felt once more the nauseated fever building up within him. Gobs of thick black ichor oozed from the famous scar, which Elle began mopping up with a clean white cloth. "Let it run," Harry hissed through clenched teeth. "Let all of that sodding bastard bleed out of me, and see how HE likes it!"

Elles' hand stilled instantly, as huge crystal tears slid silently down her alabaster cheeks—now so deadly pale with worry that she truly resembled 'Vampirella'—the hateful nickname Ron had stuck her with.

In a remarkably short space of time, Harry had begun to tremble violently, his teeth chattering with the effects of the basilisk poison. He at last began to drift in and out of consciousness, and then to lightly foam at the mouth. Harrys' breathing became labored and rattled in his throat, and FINALLY Severus spoke, "It's time now. Death is very close to claiming him."

Elle pulled out a vial of the antidote potion, and tipped it to drip slowly into Harrys' slack, blue lips, urging him, "Swallow this, Harry, my beloved. Harry? HARRY! Swallow this potion! Swallow it NOW, Harry!" He made a weak, but visible, effort and managed to choke down several tiny drops. All three of the onlookers could only pray it had been enough, as the convulsions suddenly began just before Harry stiffened, and his breathing stopped completely.

"NOW, Elspeth!" Severus shouted at her, when it seemed she would fall apart and throw herself weeping onto Harrys' body. She pulled herself together, unstoppered the last vial of antidote, and poured it into the oozing scar. It hissed and sizzled, and washed away the black ichor, leaving Harrys' mark a thin, silvery-white, healed scar; not the familiar dark lightning bolt of the past.

Severus then quickly pulled Harrys' rapidly cooling body straight down the bed, flat on his back. Hermione tipped his head back, did a finger sweep of his mouth, and proceeded to begin mouth-to-mouth rescue breathing—alternating with compressions to his heart. Not for the first time, it really came in handy being Muggle-born, and she thanked her father yet again for insisting she learn something she'd thought she would never need in a million years; CPR!

Hermione continued on, breath—breath—breath, pump—pump—pump, tirelessly, as the seconds rolled by and then became minutes. Severus had let go of Harrys' wrist, where there still was not a hint of pulse, and tried to pull her off of Harry. "NO!" she shouted. "I CAN'T give up! He's all the family I have left. Let GO of me, Severus!" She bent back over Harry, and began again with renewed vigor; breath—breath—breath, pump—pump—pump, "Come on Harry, dammit! BREATHE!"

His eyelids fluttered. Elle gasped, "Keep going, Hermione! It's WORKING!" Hermione shot Elle a surprised glance, and she suddenly saw the slightest bubble of air in one of his nostrils. She started back again, now enthusiastically performing the CPR, hope having leapt back into her dulled, desperate heart.

Severus had grabbed Harrys' wrist again, and in just a second or two, he was able to tell Hermione to stop, because he'd definitely felt a pulse where there'd been none before. It was still a bit thready, but strengthening by the second, and when she left off active CPR, Harry was really breathing on his own.

Harry slowly, and with great effort, opened his emerald eyes a tiny slit to look up at a joyously weeping Elle, whose teardrops were currently dripping into his hair. He gave a raspy chuckle, glad that he was alive, and hoarsely croaked at her, "What a first date, huh? Care to give it another go some time?" She gasped at his flippancy at a time like this, and exclaimed in a scolding tone, "Harry James Potter, if you ever scare me again like this, I. . .I. . . I'll never speak to you again as long as I live!"

Hermione looked over at Severus, and found to her ultimate surprise that an uncontrollable single tear had slid down his haggard features. "Let's give them a bit of privacy, Severus. Care for a stroll in the Garden?"

Severus gave her a lop-sided, but genuine smile, and followed Hermione from the room and up the staircase to watch the sunrise of what would be a free and beautiful day.

It was late afternoon, and the four of them had just awoken from the long, healing nap they'd taken in the safety of Salazars' bedchamber; Harry and Elle on the massive bed, Severus and Hermione in the surprisingly comfortable, cushioned corner that she secretly called 'the passion-pit'. Severus called for Gristle, and ordered fresh, cool fruit-juice for the four of them, mindful of the required fasting Mab had ordered.

Harry was still a bit weak and queasy, but was finally free of Voldemorts' hold on his life and mind. The juice was sweet, and refreshing. He began to look around, and admire all the treasures that surrounded them. Harry then stole a glance at Hermione and Severus, who were lounging back against the cushions in their corner, and smiled to himself once more at just how good they seemed to be together.

Harry looked over at Elle, and found that she was smiling too, having reached the same conclusion as he had about the other couple. As their eyes met, emerald to amethyst, they found themselves in perfect harmony, drawing ever closer to each other, and slowly their lips touched in a delicate, grateful kiss that they had a second chance of their very own.

It was almost dusk again when the foursome finally made their way back through the enchanted mirror in Severus' bathroom, only to find an extremely worried Remus Lupin anxiously awaiting their arrival. He'd been trying to locate them on the Marauders' Map, but had been failing miserably until they had actually stepped out into Severus' bathroom.

After a bit more wistful snogging by the two Gryffindor-and-Slytherin couples, they parted ways for the night; the two girls silently slipping into their private accommodations in Slytherin House, and the two senior wizards helping a still recovering Harry up to the Gryffindor common room.

As night began to fall, and the first night of the fulling of the moon came, Severus made sure that Remus had drank his first dose of Wolfsbane Potion. He followed the werewolf at a distance, to be positive that he safely reached the Shrieking Shack before the transformation that Remus both feared and hated took place. Even WITH the potion, the transformation would happen anyway, but at least his mind remained 'human' enough that he wouldn't deliberately hunt other humans.

From his position in the shadows, Severus sadly watched as a shaggy, blond werewolf leapt up from the tunnel entrance hidden in the roots of the Whomping Willow, and then with a howl at the moon, it veered right and bounded into the Dark Forest on its' hunt for prey.

Severus stood with his dark head bowed for a long, silent while, then turned sharply on his heel and made his way back into the castle, and down to the privacy of his dungeon rooms.

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That morning when everyone awoke, the air smelled fresh and clean from the rain of the night before. Tonight was the Night of Ritual; the night of sex magick, and they would have been true liars if any of the guys had said they were dreading it. As a matter of fact, several of the guys were positively giddy with the prospects of finally getting laid. Draco Malfoy was definitely on that short list, and he was actually WHISTLING this morning!

Rons' stomach had been growling for two days now, and he was DEFINITELY grumpy from lack of food. He seemed to be snapping and snarling at the least thing, but drunk his coffee, and fruit-juice, manfully trying to NOT think about food. As his stomach let go another LOUD growl, Severus arched an eyebrow and shot an amused glance at Harry, who promptly burst out laughing.

"Damn, Ron! We're all just as hungry as you are, too," Harry told him, as he rubbed a stray tear from the corner of one eye. Ron shot an evil look at his best friend, but didn't say a word. He just poured up a second helping of fruit-juice, and nursed it slowly, before muttering to himself, "How's a bloke supposed to 'perform his duties' if he's starving to death?"

Neville was nursing his own fruit-juice along, trying to pacify his own hunger, and having heard Rons' comment, added his two-pence worth. "How's a bloke supposed to 'perform his duties' at all? I mean I've read up on it, and I KNOW it's supposed to 'just come naturally', but REALLY! Just how do you DO it?" His anxious eyes met Harrys', before sliding down to rest again on his juice glass.

Draco laughed, and finally took pity on Neville, saying, "Relax, Sneville! It's just like dancing, except you do it lying down instead of standing up—although standing up CAN work too, especially in the shower!"

Neville looked around at three grinning red-heads bobbing in agreement, and felt immeasurably reassured. After all, he KNEW how to dance, and he enjoyed it, too! If sex was like dancing, he'd be okay.

On the other hand, Harry had felt his heart drop into his feet. HE couldn't dance a step! He looked over at Severus in time to catch the amused glint in the dark eyes before he snuffed it out, and he gave Harry the barest nod of affirmation.

'Sweet Merlin, what if I'm just as clumsy at sex as I am at dancing?' thought Harry, suddenly dreading tonight more than he'd EVER dreaded facing off against Voldemort again, and wishing that he'd listened to Hermione—and not Ron—about those bloody dancing lessons she'd bitched at him to take!

The girls were conspicuous by their very absence, having rituals of purification of their own to perform. It was a LONG day for the young wizards, as they helped Severus track down Remus to dose him again with Wolfsbane Potion, since tonight would be the true full moon.

Neville was the one who finally found him—scratched and bruised and naked—lying in the under-growth near the lake. "Here he is!" shouted Neville, pointing to where he was lying barely visible.

Severus motioned the others back with one long-fingered hand as he, himself, approached the exhausted Lupin and knelt down beside the werewolf. "Remus?" he softly said. "Remus, can you hear me?" The shaggy, bramble-filled head rose up slightly, and whimpered like a newborn puppy. Severus unstoppered the potion bottle, and whispered, "Drink this Remus. You'll need to remain in as much control tonight as possible; there will be humans in the Dark Forest tonight."

Remus stared at Severus, his eyes still glowing willow-green—the wolf barely controlled inside him—and obediently swallowed all of the contents of the special silver-lined bottle. Severus cautiously backed away from the werewolf, and motioned again for all the young wizards to leave Remus in whatever peace he could find.

As they all started back towards the castle to shower and prepare for the soon to happen ritual, Severus drew back a bit from the rest and motioned for Harry and Neville to walk with him.

Severus was plainly embarrassed, as he cleared his throat and began to quietly speak, "Ahem, Potter—Longbottom, it has come to my attention that the two of you MIGHT not be quite as well-prepared for tonight as the others. There is no shame in being pure; as a matter of fact, it could even be considered an honor that you've waited so long. The sex-magick ritual might possibly even work better for the two of you, since you'll basically also be sacrificing your virginity to the gods this night."

He swiped the two equally embarrassed young wizards with a side-ways glance, and continued, "It is quite understandable that you both feel a bit of trepidation at these prospects; HOWEVER, I strongly suggest that you pack away your selfish concerns, and take into consideration that you MIGHT also be faced with the deflowering of a young lady tonight. YOU are not the only ones afraid of . . . how do I put this . . . ah, yes, 'doing it'. And you might also consider practicing on a GENTLE 'scourgifing' spell. Most virgin girls tend to bleed when they have sex for the first time. No need to panic about it, just be tender, patient, and QUIETLY take care of cleaning up the situation for them." On this note, Severus snapped his mouth shut, and strode off, his black robes billowing behind him.

Harry and Neville just stared at each other. Neville was astonished that Snape would actually care about them, and about what would have been a horrifying surprise, had he not fore-warned them on what to expect. Harry, having begun to know Severus through Hermiones' feelings, as well as his own experience, was just grateful for the warning and only wondered what had taken Severus so long to tell them.

The path to the ancient stone circle was easy for them to follow this night, as the moon was rising full and bright. Seven wizards, clad in black robes, were making the trek to meet their destinies, not even daring to look at one another. Only the snap of the occasional twig, or crunch of dried leaves underfoot marked their passing.

When they came to the enchanted meadow, the bonfire was burning bright in its' center and seven priestesses were dancing naked inside the circle of tall standing stones that stood around it. Remus Lupin, in all his werewolf glory, lay curled around Mabs' feet, looking for all the world like a tame lap-dog.

With a clap of her hands, Mab rolled the earth beneath their feet and the seven wizards stopped to stand stupefied just outside the circle. Poppy stepped out from her place behind Mab holding a shining goblet in her hands. Immediately the seven witches stopped their dance, and came one-by-one to each take a long draught from it. As each did so, they disappeared in a silvery swirl of mist, like the fog rolling over the lake.

When only Mab and Poppy remained in the circle, the seven wizards were summoned into her presence. They knew what was to happen, having read up on it continually from the slim volume Draco had pilfered from Snapes' private library. However it was Severus who went first, to teach by example.

Severus accepted a silver dagger proffered by Poppy, unflinchingly sliced his right palm and dripped his blood into the sacred bonfire. He then knelt, and made a deep and reverent saalom to Queen Mab, saying the proper words, "I pledge myself to Thee, my Queen. Make of me a warrior for Order, that Ma-at may be restored."

The ancient goddess rose to her feet, smiled at him, and laid her hand on his bowed head, commanding him to, "Rise my son, and drink. Thou art a warrior of Order." Severus accepted the goblet from Poppy, and drank deeply of whatever it contained. Instantly he disappeared, just as the girls had moments before.

Draco followed him, doing and saying exactly what Severus had done before him. The others each made their own pledges, and vanished one-by-one, until only Harry was left. Mab stopped him before he could follow suit, as she smelled him and looked deeply into his eyes. She smiled a pleased smile at him, and said, "Hartorius, you are truly clean and pure, having passed through the shadow of death and being re-borned, you are now untouched by the Evil One. If you wish a different destiny, it is within my powers to grant it to you now. You can withdraw from this battle, and another will be raised up to fight in your stead."

Harry faced what he now knew to be TRULY a goddess, and meaning it with all of his brave Gryffindor heart, he answered her, "My Queen, I wouldn't wish this burden on anyone else—not even on my worst enemy! May I take my vows, and fight with my companions?"

Mab looked deeply into Harrys' soul, and nodded. Harry took hold of the dagger, and made his own blood sacrifice to the holy flame. He then did just the same as all the others, making his vows, and drinking just as deeply from the proffered goblet as Severus had. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was Mabs' amazing eyes; their midnight-blue swirling as if filled with all the stars of the heavens.

Where he was, Harry couldn't say. Everything was grey and swirling, like Limbo, and he thought at first he was completely alone. Then off in the distance, he thought he saw a golden glow. He was flying through time and space—without a broom! He looked at himself. Sweet Merlin! He had WINGS! Suddenly he merged into the golden light, and found himself soaring above a desert headed towards an oasis off in the distance.

When he landed, he was again in human form, wearing a fine, sheer, white linen kilt and a thick, winged-collar of gold. Harry strode towards a red-and-green striped silk tent, opened the flaps and entered. A female figure with long, blue-black hair, and the heavy kohl makeup of ancient Egypt stood there. She dressed in a similarly sheer fine linen gown and golden neckpiece as she turned swiftly to face him, and exclaimed, "Horus, my Beloved! You have found me!"

A part of his mind KNEW that she was Elle, but the words came out, "Yes, Hathor, Beloved of Horus, I have found you at last!" At this, their arms found each others' embrace, and their lips met in an eternal kiss of love, before he lifted her up into his arms and carried her over to the silken bed of cushions awaiting their tryst.

Each of the five other young wizards were experiencing much the same thing, except that they were representative of many different deities of other ancient lands.

Draco found himself as striding across the heavens as Thor, covered in thick furs, and a woolen shirt and leggings so finely woven that they felt like silk on his skin. As he crossed the golden bridge and entered Asgarde, he saw his beloved Freya stepping from her silver chariot of prophesy, drawn by her sacred flying cats.

Her face broke out in a wide, welcoming smile as she ran towards him, her long, red hair flying behind her like a waving war banner. A part of his mind told Draco that this was Miranda, but as she leapt up into his arms and pulled his pale-blond head down to meet her kiss, he growled in his voice of thunder, "Freya, Beloved wife! I have called the storms and humans to battle, just to feel you in my arms once more!"

She whispered as soft as moonlight, "Beloved Thor, I welcome my Lord Husband to my arms and my bed this night, as the storms rage and humans die. I have prophesied, the chosen have listened, and mans' destiny will be fulfilled as Odin himself has ordered."

Draco scooped her up into his strong arms, and strode into their great wooden-beamed feasting hall, and straight through it, ending in their bedchamber to tenderly lay her onto their pine-bough and fur-lined bed with a fiery kiss.

Ron suddenly found himself clad in roughly-tanned hide leggings, and moccasin-type boots. He touched his sticky face, and looked at his fingers; they were covered in woad paint, and he was wearing an antler head-dress with a shaggy fur cloak.

Ron walked on through the snow drifts covering the forest floor, and after he'd crossed a small, icy stream, he came to a well-lit cave. A fire burned brightly in a fire-pit deep inside, a massive cauldron bubbling over its' orange-golden flames.

There, with her back to him, stood a slender feminine form, diligently stirring whatever was boiling inside the cauldron. She tilted her head to one side, and he instantly KNEW this was his Luna, but as she turned to face him, she joyously called out, "Lugh! Beloved Husband, god of the Hunt! I welcome you again to my arms."

Ron answered in a voice like a thousand stampeding stags, "Ceridwyn of the Cauldron, Beloved wife, I live only to lie with you once more!" He reached out to catch her up into his hairy arms, and she melted into his embrace with a kiss and a sigh, as he carried her to a mossy brier and spread her out beneath him.

Fred found himself in darkness. It appeared to be the inside of a cave, and in the distance he could see a glimmer of pale white light. He seemed to fly towards it, and finally the form of a woman could be seen hovering over a small fire. He recognized Erika, but her skin was blue—like on some weird episode of the Muggle 'telly-thing' Hermione had sometimes watched before her parents' deaths. Fred thought he remembered her calling it 'Star Trek', or some such, and he'd glanced at it. After he'd seen the green dancing slave-girls, that is.

He looked down at himself, and much to his surprise, HE was blue, too. Erika saw him hovering above her, and called out in a voice full of love, "Enlil, Beloved, I welcome you back to me again!" She held open her arms, and he dove into them, saying as he did so, "Ninlil, my Beloved wife! I live to hold you in my Eternal embrace."

He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, his hands roving freely over her bare breasts. She pulled him even closer, and lay down on their bed of stars spreading her legs wide to receive him.

George was lost, utterly lost! He couldn't FEEL Fred anywhere; something that had NEVER happened since they'd been babies sharing the same womb. It felt like he was wading through a swift flowing river, and then he could feel sand beneath his feet as he climbed out onto the bank.

There ahead of him, he saw a temple shaped sort of like the Empire State building in the States—except it was covered in writhing, carved-stone figures performing EXTREMELY acrobatic sexual acts. Waiting in the entrance way stood a female—who he instinctively recognized as Amanda—but she had such dark skin, and coal-black, knee-length hair, not spikey white-blonde tufts like his Mandy. She greeted him with a jingle of her many bracelets, as she merrily waved at him, calling, "Surya, Husband of my Heart! I welcome the union we will share this holy night!"

Georges' heart was instantly full of deepest love and respect, as he joyfully returned her greeting, "Sanjna, Light of my Heart, Wife of my Soul!" His arms lifted her up, and she wrapped her long, slender legs around his waist as he carried her inside the Temple of Life, and laid her upon their marriage bed once more.

Neville strode out of the ocean, onto the warm shore of some Mediterranean island. He glanced down at himself to watch the rivulets of seawater running off his muscular body. He appeared to be wearing some kind of loin-cloth made of seaweed, and in his mighty hands he held a trident, and a fortune in milky white pearls.

Neville saw her playing with a dolphin in thigh-deep water near the beach, his Gillian. She was clad in a diaphanous gown, belted with a golden cord and scallop-shells. He called out to her, and was surprised that his voice sounded like waves crashing onto the shore. She waved back to him, a sweet smile lighting her features, and she waded back onto the beach calling, "Poseidan, beloved Husband! You have been too long gone from my side!"

Neville gave himself a shake, flinging salty water out of his long wavy hair, and returned her greeting, "Amphitrite, wife of my heart, I have returned to hold you again!" He offered her the pearls, sticking them into her long, curly hair. She giggled, and offered up her lips for his kiss. He returned her kiss with one that was as fierce as an ocean storm, and then swept her up into his arms, striding up the rocky hillside to his temple and their marriage bed.

Severus stared gloomily around him, and thought, 'FUCK! Of course YOU'D find yourself in hell, Severus, you bloody lecher! Serves you right for even daring to hope Hermione would be your chosen partner. With MY luck, it'll probably be bloody Minerva McGonagall, and I'll never be able to get it up and shag again!' He looked morosely around again at the dark cavern, as the souls of the dead wandered sightlessly around, and the fumes of sulfur and smoke drifting in a lazy stench around him.

A bright golden light came flooding into the deep, dark of his despair, and he saw her—his golden lioness running towards him—bringing with her all the sweet smells of springtime. He rose to his feet to catch her, just as she flung herself into his embrace crying, "Hades, my Beloved! I never thought to call you so, but by all the gods I swear it is true." She pressed herself against him, and pulled his dark, sanguine head down to meet her soft, young lips in the sweetest of kisses.

Severus laughed out loud, both for their situation and the very irony of it, and said, "Persephone, Beloved! How I have missed you! The gods are good, that they have returned my wife to me." And on these words, he lifted her up and swiftly strode into his temple which instantly lit with the brightness and warmth of the spring sun. He carried her into the innermost sanctum and laid her out on the silken cushions waiting there, caressing her insistently as she moaned and spread herself in purest love for him.

END CHAPTER ELEVEN


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: All disclaimers still apply; I am not J. K., and I own nothing except my very own AU-which my story is set in. I hope you are enjoying the read, and the characters I have created. As ALWAYS your reviews are important to me, and much appreciated. Rating: DEFINITELY M!! Let's get to it, shall we?

Chapter Twelve: There's Got To Be A Morning After; or, He Said/She Said

Whatever hallucinogenic had been in that sacred goblet they'd all drunk from was finally beginning to wear off on all the participants of the sex-magick ritual, and all the gods and goddesses were returning the mortal bodies they'd purloined to their rightful owners.

It was like waking slowly up from a wet dream in the middle of the night, to discover that something must have really happened after all, because of the tangled sheets and warm body sharing the bed. As each of the couples began to drift to a state of wakefulness, there were gentle touches, kisses, and a rising desire to 'have another go' as they all found to their fortunate surprise they really had been with the one of their dreams.

Harry tenderly kissed Elle, and brushed a single tear from her pale cheek with his thumb as he softly asked, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" She gave a small groan, but hesitantly smiled at him, and answered, "Yes, a bit, but I've heard that it gets better, and that I'll learn to appreciate just how . . . big . . . you are the more we're intimate."

He was instantly solicitous of Elle, and remembering Severus' advice, he used 'scourgify' as gently as he could to clean the huge blood stain from his sheets, and from off both of them. After ascertaining that she was as thirsty as he was himself, Harry summoned Dobby to fetch them some of the cool fruit juice she'd so enjoyed yesterday. 'Was it only yesterday?' Harry thought to himself. 'How much difference just a day can make!'

Harry and Elle lounged back, bodies comfortably touching, against the pillows of his bed in Gryffindor Tower, as they sipped the cool fruit-juice and snacked on the sweet biscuits that Dobby had taken upon himself to add to the silver bed-tray he'd brought them. They shared a quiet laugh about the pleased, proud, paternal look Dobby had given both his chosen master, Harry Potter, and the beautiful girl who currently seemed to be pleasing said master.

"You have crumbs, just here," Elle said, as she leant over to flick them from the left corner of his mouth with her pink little tongue. Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he felt himself hardening again. He used moving the tray to the floor as an excuse to 'adjust' his newly arisen problem.

"Ahem!" he tried clearing his throat, but hoarsely said, "Elle, if you don't stop, I might end up having to 'hurt' you again!" She just smirked at him, as her slender alabaster fingers tentatively slid inside the sheets and she touched his erection as delicately as a spiders' web. Harry drew in a sharp inhalation through his hawkish nose, and said with a slow hiss, "Elle, I'm not joking! I don't want to cause you pain again. Wouldn't it be better to wait a day or two, give you a chance to heal a bit?"

Elle stared into his concerned emerald eyes with her own open and honest amethyst stare, and gently replied, "Harry, it's almost dawn. The ritual will end at sunrise, and please Harry, I want just one time of it being me and you, not some magickal bollocks of a shag! I want it to be YOU making love to ME, if you wouldn't mind that is."

Harry swallowed hard, and slowly reached a trembling hand over to caress her beautiful, pale cheek. Elle turned her head to press an insistent, moist kiss into his palm. Harry let his hand slip slowly down her throat, and come to rest cupping one pink-tipped, small-but perfect-breast, as he swooped down to slide his tongue between Elle's gasping, parted lips, and to raise up on his other hand to hover over her. Harry deepened their kiss, plundering her warm, sweet-tasting mouth, and instinctively used his knee to part her slender thighs, to most tenderly and thoroughly give her what she'd begged him so sweetly for . . . one more time.

Ron rolled over onto his side, and sleepily draped his left arm across the warm, soft body lying beside him. He drowsily pulled the stiffening little body closer, and lazily dipped his head down to nuzzle a smooth, petite shoulder. "Ouch! Be easy, Ron," Luna plaintively exclaimed.

That jerked Ronald Weasley completely awake. He was instantly full of pride about having successfully shagged Luna Lovegood, and puffed his chest out just a bit as he grinned and suggested, "Care for another go at it, Luna my love?" He ground his pelvis against her heart-shaped little bum.

"OWWIE! NO, Ron!" Luna said on a pained, rising note, as she attempted to scuttle sideways like a crab, away from her giver of pain and pleasure.

Ron's face fell, and he said, "What do you mean 'no'? It SURE wasn't 'no' just a little while ago!" He angrily threw the sheets back to storm out of the bed, and froze in sudden shock. "I say Luna, you . . . you're not on your period, are you? I mean, there's a . . . ah, a puddle of blood here . . . a LOT of blood!"

"NO, Ronald! I'm not on my period. I was a VIRGIN, you sodding idiot!" Luna complained, and promptly burst into tears. Ronald Weasley was gobsmacked, and he breathed, "Oh Merlin! Oh bloody buggery bollocks!" Ron swallowed hard, and tried again, "Luna, my little love! Circe, I'm such a jackass! Luna, my sweetest heart, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I swear! What can I do? What can I DO? I've never been with a virgin before!"

Ron's worried expression almost made Luna take pity on him, but not quite. Luna sighed, and said, "A little cleansing spell should help, Ron. Can you manage, or may I borrow your wand and I'll do it myself." Ron instantly hopped out of bed, heedless of the rapidly drying blood that encrusted him, and fetched his wand from the bureau top. "Scourgify," he whispered, tapping his wand delicately, hoping that he was being gentle enough.

They were immediately cleansed, sheets and all, and Luna sighed as she murmured, "Thank you, Ron! That's nice and warm, and you did it just right." He cleared his throat a couple of times, and when he'd finally found his voice again he replied, "It's nothing, love. Ah, Luna?"

"Yes, Ron?" she tiredly answered. He tried again, "Luna, is it right that there was quite so MUCH blood? I mean, you DID want to, right? I didn't . . . I didn't force you, did I?"

With these hushed, self-conscious words, Luna finally did take pity on Ron. "No, Ronald my love. You didn't force me, I wanted it too. I just hadn't thought it'd be quite so . . . uncomfortable. I mean, I should have known! After all, girls talk too, and Lavender was MOST explicit and proud about your being 'well-endowed' and all. But the reality was a bit more than I'd counted on."

Ron seized on one statement, and said, "You knew about Lavender?" She nodded her head slowly, and stared wide-eyed into his blue-green surprised eyes. "Well, that's as it should be. I don't want to keep any secrets from you, Luna," Ron finally said, after he'd thought it through.

Luna raised herself up on her elbow, the sheet slipping down to expose just the barest peek of one of her pert nipples, which instantly drew all of Ron's attention and left him dry-mouthed in wonder. She looked slyly at him, and softly said, "Ah . . . Ron, would you like to kiss me again, now?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at her nipple, and nodded his head. Then Ron stopped, and slowly shook his head 'no' before saying, "Luna, I'm not so sure that would be such a good idea. I still want you, and all, but . . . well, what if I get 'excited' and can't stop? I don't want to hurt you again."

She smiled a wide smile that made her little nondescript face illuminate suddenly with an abiding beauty. He'd passed the test! Ron had put HER feelings first, and was actually being kind and considerate about her well-being.

"Well, it's my understanding that it hurts less and less as you get more practice at it," Luna replied, as she reached a slim little hand over to stroke his broad cheek. "Want to start practicing?" she whispered, and tilted her head back to receive the kiss they both truly wanted.

Fred and George shared a bedroom, just as they always had. As they began to awaken themselves, a symphony of quiet whisperings and moans began to come from the two separate beds; along with the faint squeeking of bedsprings that gradually became louder and more creaking by the second.

From each bed, a girls' voice began to emerge--until the two girls were both doing their own fair share of 'twin-speak'; "Oh, oh, yes , yes . . . YES!" "Sweet Merlin, that's soooo goooodd!" "Just there, ahh, yeeessss!" "More to the other side, o o oooh, yeeeeeessssss, THERE!" "Oh goddess, oh goddess, ooh Fffrreeeeddd, yes!" "Don't stop-don't stop-don't stop!" "Ooh, ooh, oooohh!" "George, what ARE you doing? Oh my stars! Yes! Yes! YESSSSSssss!"

Draco had been awake and eavesdropping for awhile now, his left arm curled lazily around Miranda's petite form, fondling one full breast with slow circles as she slept on. He was grinning wickedly; the headboard of his bed abutted the twins' room, and from the sound of it, they were all having a grand old time in there! Miranda suddenly flipped over onto her back with an irritated huff, and pinned Draco with a hard emerald-green stare.

Draco immediately took the hint. He slipped from the warmth of his bed to pound on the shared wall and shout, "Ever hear of a 'silencio' charm, you sodding buggers? There's a LADY present in here!"

Gillian was moaning in her sleep, sad little whimpers, with the tell-tale trails of dried tears crystalizing on her pale cheeks. Neville came instantly awake, and remembering Severus' advice, peeked under the sheets. Sweet Merlin! Yup, they were both crusted with dried blood, and there was a pool of it under her right hip.

Gillian was curled into an almost fetal position, her too-thin arms clasped protectively around her abdomen, as she fitfully slept on. Neville's heart felt like it was breaking, to have done this to her because of Mab. For the first time ever in his life, Neville Longbottom truly hated himself.

He slid ever so quietly from his bed, and tip-toed over to the bureau top to retrieve his wand. "Scourgify!" he whispered, trying the charm on himself first. HE deserved to be hurt if it went wrong as his spells so often did, not her. But to his utter amazement it worked!

Neville crept back over to the bed, lifted the sheet, and aimed his wand most carefully, whispering, "Scourgify!" once again; this time for Gillian's comfort and cleansing. He pulled the sheet back over her wraith-like form, and tucked her up as best as he could before he went suddenly weak-kneed, and had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Gillian gave a soft, relieved sigh, as the warmth of the cleansing spell eased some of her soreness away, and she relaxed enough to roll over towards him and stretch herself almost completely straight.

Neville just hung his head, and buried his face into his wide, calloused hands. First one tear, then another--which he manfully struggled to control--slid silently down his broad, honest, embarrassed face. He almost jumped out of his skin when one of Gillian's slender hands came to rest on his naked shoulder.

Gillian pushed herself up, pressed a forgiving kiss to the back of his embarrassed, bowed neck, and soothed him with the words, "Sssh, Neville, my heart! It's a natural thing for the first time to be messy and painful. It's just a part of every woman's life. I'm glad that you were my first. Anyone else might not even have cared! YOU care so much that I can feel your heart breaking for my sake." Her thin, pale arms slid around Neville's shoulders, and she rested her cheek against his wide back.

Neville heaved a shuddering breath, and whispered, "How can you be so sweet to me when I must have acted like an animal, to leave you in so much pain?" He felt her smile, so firmly was her cheek pressed against his back, and she softly replied, "Because I love you, silly!"

At these words, Neville jerked his head up, accidentally cracking Gillian's head with his own in the process, as he pivoted around to pull her over onto his lap. They both rubbed their bruised heads, and shared a quiet laugh before they became serious. Neville reverently kissed her lips, and replied, "And I love you, Gillian, my only sweetheart." They both grew still once more, staring into each others' eyes with an honest love.

Afterwards, neither could ever say just who leant into whom, but it was only a matter of several long, slow, ever-deepening kisses before they were again tangled in his sheets, and exploring each other as new lovers have done since the beginning of time.

Severus lay flat on his back, cradling Hermione's head on his chest where she could sleep while listening to his heartbeat. He shifted his head to one side, and softly sniffed the tousled, tawny mane of his Lady. 'Yes, she still smells of apples and honey and newly-mown grass, just as I remember,' Severus thought to himself. He sighed, and felt a relaxed grin spread across his normally saturnine features.

He'd already surmised that he wouldn't be Hermione's first lover, even before they'd consummated the sex-magick ritual, but Severus didn't care. In fact, he was almost relieved that he wouldn't have to be the one to breach her maidenhead, and be the cause of that inevitable pain. Severus adjusted himself a bit, so that she was within striking distance of his kiss. Hermione gave a satisfied little murmur and snuggled closer to him, insinuating her left leg between his strong thighs to press her moist curls against his hip.

With this action on her part, Severus eased Hermione over onto her back, and flicked the tip of his tongue against her swollen lips until she parted them to allow him to again plunder her willing mouth. After a long, intense duel of a kiss, Severus began trailing slow, lazy circles with his hot tongue, intermingled with little nips and kisses, down her beautiful, nubile body, worshipping every inch of her with his mouth. He silently vowed to himself, 'No, my little love, I might not have been your first, but if I have anything at all to say about it, I'll damn sure be your LAST lover!'

Hermione thrashed her head from side-to-side, feeling like she would shatter into a million tiny shards any second now. This was something entirely new for her, and she was positive that Severus had to be using some form of wandless magick on her! 'Ohh, sweet Merlin, that feelss soo gooodd!' danced through her mind. Hermione gasped and trembled, arching her back until her head nearly touched her shoulder blades, as she cried out, "Oh, Merlin! Oh my stars! Ohhh, Sev'ruusssss! Oh, oh, OH YESSsss!!!"

She hadn't even realized she was speaking out loud, as her fingers twisted and tangled his blue-black hair into knots, holding his head in this wonderfully wanton-feeling position. Severus automatically gripped her hips more firmly, as she writhed beneath his skilled tongues' ministrations, and reached her very first climax.

As she drifted back into herself, her blood pounding in her ears, Hermione went bonelessly limp with a low moan of pure sensual pleasure. Severus gently released his grip on her, climbing slowly back up to stop and hover almost menancingly over her; his obsidian stare boring into her amber-brown eyes, which still glowed in wicked abandon.

"Say my name again, Hermione my love," Severus growled seductively, his arms locked at the elbow, one on either side of her, as his glittering black stare bored into her smoky topaz eyes. 'Merlin, the way you say MY name,' thought Hermione for a split-second before she purred back, "Severus."

His face began drifting down, his generous mouth lowering to brush her parted lips, and Severus smirked at her involuntary shudder, as he whispered in that deep, velvety purr, "You are as sweet as honey, my love. Now say my name like you did a bit ago."

His tongue gently flicked her bottom lip, and she whimpered as she huskily asked, "Do you mean like this, 'Sevv'russs'?" Severus growled in the affirmative, as he latched onto her lips to plunder her mouth with his own, at the same plunging his thick rock-hardness into her hot, wet center to begin again the long, lushious strokes that had brought her so much pleasure earlier that night.

Severus raised himself up onto his knees, pulling Hermione by her arse so that he never stopped sliding in and out of her slickness. He slowly lifted her left leg up, sliding it forward and up until he could press a hot kiss onto her sensitive instep, before placing her foot on his shoulder. This unbelievably sensous routine was repeated just as slowly on her right leg, and Hermione could feel him filling her with all of his length, which was almost painfully more than she could take.

Hermione stared up at Severus, her lover, and marvelled to herself at the intense desire for her in his obsidian eyes, glittering so completely black--threatening to suck her very soul into his. 'Merlin! Who'd ever have guessed that such an intensely passionate alpha-male lurked beneath that satirical, cold veneer Severus projects!' she thought in amazement.

A drop of his salty-tasting sweat dripped onto her breast; she reached a finger up to wipe it off. Severus' sharp inhalation as she touched her own breast suddenly inspired the wanton wildcat she'd just discovered lurking inside her, thanks to this dark god of a man.

She tentatively cupped her breast and bent her head as far forward as she could, never breaking the stare she'd locked Severus into, to flick her own nipple with the tip of her pink tongue. Severus froze for a split-second, his every muscle shuddering at the erotic turn-on his Hermione presented him so generously with.

He raised up on his knees, took her roughly by her ankles, and pushing against them for extra leverage, proceeded to drive into her harder and faster than ever, until Severus, himself, unknowingly cried out in the instant of his orgasm, "Oh by all the gods! HERMIIOOONNNEEEE!!!!", before collapsing on top of her.

Severus rolled over onto his back, pulling Hermione with him, to rest her head once more on his broad, heaving chest. He gave a wheezing chuckle as he raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his face, and said, "You'll be the death of me yet, my little lioness! I'm an OLD man, remember? Don't even THINK about a fourth time! As it is, I probably won't be able to walk properly tomorrow, for which I sincerely thank you, my little love." He pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and whispered, "Three hundred points TO Gryffindor, for services above and beyond excellant!"

Hermione snarkily panted back, "Old man, my sweet arse!" Severus paused in mid-wipe of his face to let her see the humor in his eyes, still glowing their all-black passionate gaze. Oh my stars! That fourth time was on its way! She felt her blush spreading clear down past her nipples, but she didn't care. Sweet Circe! Ever the professor, Severus Snape was thoroughly teaching Hermione Granger that where sex was concerned, there was a world of difference between having a boy, and having a man!

'Sweet Circe, this feels wonderful!' thought Harry, as he continued stroking inside of Elle, and nuzzeling her neck. She was whimpering soft little encouraging words, because she was thinking exactly the same thought as he was. Elle ran her hands down Harry's back, fingernails scraping ever so lightly, causing him to groan and buck even more deeply into her slick tightness.

Elle began whispering in that strangely familiar, sibilant language as she writhed beneath him, and Harry instantly obeyed what she'd asked him for--sliding one arm under the small of her back, to grasp her bum and lift her up as locked her ankles around his arse, and he pumped even more deeply into her.

His mind didn't even pause to process the fact that she'd just spoken Parsel-tongue, and he unconsciously replied back in Parsel, "Yessss, Elsssepthhh, oh Csssirrrcsssseeeeeeeeeee! Tthaaattsss ssssoo goood! Yesssssss!", as he felt his orgasm burst inside of her in fiery pulses, mixing with her own sudden flood, as she joined him in screaming, "Ohh, Harrreeeee! Ohhh, YESSSSssss!"

Ron was just coming back into his room, carrying a tray containing at least one of everything the school house-elfs could scrounge up at this hour. Luna was sitting up in the center of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his oldest flannel shirts, unbuttoned and open, and a huge smile.

He returned her smile with an idiotic grin of his own. As he sat down at the foot of his bed and placed the tray between them, Ron could suddenly 'see' into the future. Maybe Trelawney hadn't been quite so daft after all; maybe he really had gotten something out of all those dingbat classes year after year.

Ron swallowed hard, trying not to wimp-out and let his unexpected tears fall. He was a man, after all; a bloody Quidditch player, not a sodding ponce! Ron glanced over again through his auburn eyelashes, yup!, still there. A vision of twenty years passed in love and contentment, and once again sharing a bedtray with the lovely Luna Weasley, his wife.

The foursome sat crosslegged dressed in various pieces of unmatching, faded sweatpants and tee-shirts, in a circle in Fred and George's bedroom floor, rummaging through the twins' stash of goodies. There were chocolate frogs, Nutty-Fluffs, raspberry twists, and butterpuffs. There was also a twelve-can pack of a Muggle beverage they'd 'nicked' from their dads' Muggle artifacts collection, after sampling it at Harry and Hermione's house during this past Christmas holiday.

George used a milder version of the 'Arcticus' charm to chill individual cans for them. Mandy wasn't too sure about consuming a Muggle product, especially one that 'popped' and 'fizzed' after the incident of her washing her hair in Muggle beer that had led up to Seamus' blowing her hair off last year. But Erika reached greedily for the very first can to be chilled, saying as she did so, "COKE! Yummy! Thanks, guys! It's been too long since I've gotten hold of one of these." She popped the pull-tab open, and immediately took several long, deep swallows.

Mandy eyed her warily, and becoming more confident on seeing that nothing bad occurred to Erika, she slowly reached for a 'Coke' of her own. She repeated Erika's actions that had opened the thing, and after a nose-tickling sniff of the fluid inside the can, she delicately sampled the beverage. It was good! Maybe there were some Muggle things that had merit after all.

Miranda's emerald-green eyes were sensuously boring into Draco's silvery-blue ones as she rested her bum on her heels with her hands cupping her full breasts, before inching her pelvis slowly back up, only to spear herself downwards once again on his unbelievably hard cock. This was their third go-round, and they'd now started experimentation with various positions.

Draco had never felt both so helpless, and at the same time so turned on, in all of the nearly eighteen years of his life. Miranda gave his shaft a tight squeeze with her internal muscles, before she began to undulate her hips like a belly-dancer. Draco shuddered all over, and felt like he'd surely climb out of his skin--or pop his rocks off--in the next heartbeat, as she slowly picked up their pace.

Miranda began tossing her long auburn curls in complete abandon, murmuring her own moans and assorted little noises, as she rode Draco to her own orgasm. But other than to enjoy the view, groan, gasp, and try his best to thrust more deeply into her, there wasn't much else Draco Malfoy could do. The little minx had him tightly tied spread-eagle to the four bedposts!

Neville and Gillian were giggling madly as they raced each other down the hallway. She was clad in a pair of his boxer shorts and a jumper at least four sizes too big. It hung nearly mid-thigh on her too-slender frame, and she had to keep tugging at the waistband of the boxers to keep them from sliding down around her ankles. Neville had on a pair of dark blue jogging pants and matching sweatshirt, the perfect stealth-wear for their moonlight raid of Hogwarts' pantry.

They made it back to Neville's room with their stash, and collapsed on his bed in a fit of nervous laughter. Gillian, the first of them to regain their breath, began to spread out the bounty of their little raid. They'd just beaten Ron Weasley to the larder, but had left the lion's share for the perpetually starving Ron anyway. There was still plenty for the two of them; thin slices of baked ham, a few pieces of cold fried-chicken, several sweet-yeast rolls, a bottle of cold milk, and a dozen or so chocolate-chip cookies.

They took their time eating, talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds as they passed the milk bottle back and forth between them. Finally, with full stomachs and tired bodies, they curled up together and slept, each feeling completely safe and totally accepted and loved for the first time ever.

Gristle 'popped' back with the tray her Master and My Lady had ordered moments earlier. She was mos' pleased to have Master so happy, and had outdone herself on their tray. There were ham and cheese rolls with the spicy brown mustard-sauce Severus liked, an assortment of fruit in a small silver bowl, a sampling of sweet biscuits, the usual variety of chocolates, and a chilled bottle of the sparkling white wine that Hermione favored.

The happy house-elf knew enough to just deliver the tray, and then 'pop' back out to leave the two of her mos' favorite people in the whole world alone once more.

"Thank you, Gristle," they said in unison, and looked at each other in surprise, before sharing a laugh about the little house-elf's determined matchmaking efforts. From the satisfied looks and huge elfin smiles Gristle had given the two of them, it appeared she was completely sure that all this was entirely due solely to her elfin efforts.

Severus and Hermione lounged facing each other with the bedtray lying between them. As they nibbled and sipped, Severus decided to share his thoughts about what he wanted as the reward Mab had promised him for Harry's cure. She listened most attentively, and when he'd finished talking, she was deeply moved by his generousity.

"You'd ask for THAT, and only that, out of everything you could possibly ask for," Hermione said, as her warm, honey-amber eyes brimmed over with love for this kind, passionate, caring man that everyone hated, mistrused, and feared.

"Yes, my love," Severus said firmly. "Werewolves are slaves to their disease. It wasn't a magic that they sought out for themselves; it was a curse, an unbreakable curse, forced on them. There has to have been a cure at one time because all of the most ancient texts swears there was, but it went extinct or something--I'm sure of it. Mab's been a nature goddess since humans first appeared. She would know of the true cure, and could restore the missing ingredient of the Wolfsbane Potion. There would finally be a complete cure possible for any werewolf that would choose to be entirely human again, like Lupin."

He arched a sardonic eyebrow at Hermione, and winked at her, before adding in the old snarky tone, "Of course, there's always the fact that being sole owner and brew-master of the Werewolf Curse-breaking Potion, I'd probably end up rich as Croesus."

Hermione snorted, and erupted in the merry laughter that made Severus' bruised and battered heart blossom like the desert after the rain. "There's my Slytherin-lover! Out for yourself, and yet still hiding your true self! Oh, Severus, I love you!" The words just tumbled out, and once spoken, could never be taken back.

Severus went stock-still, as if she'd cast 'Petrificus Totalis' on him. All humor drained from his sudden, vulnerable, deeply hopeful stare, and he whispered, "How can you possibly love ME, Hermione, my perfect one? You KNOW what I am! You know that I'm twenty years older than you. That's probably why what young Weasley said cut so deeply; it's true that I am old enough to be your father."

Hermione let all of her brave Gryffindor heart shine in her eyes; now was not the time to hold anything back from him. The words she spoke next took Severus' breath completely away, "I know that you're not like the 'front' you present to the rest of the world. Well, maybe to a certain extent you ARE 'Snarky Snape', but you're also 'Severus'; a kind, compassionate man, a dedicated, inspiring teacher, and one hell of a lover to boot!"

She grinned wickedly at his answering dirty look, and continued, "As for your age, it doesn't matter a gnat's whisker to me. My dad was fifteen years older than my mum. And that's Muggle years, Severus! I worked our age difference out with arithmancy. You, yourself, should know that since wizards and witches live extra-long life spans, that twenty years would only be about seven years difference if we were both ordinary Muggles. As for being old enough to be my father--only if you were extremely precocious as a young man, which I don't believe you were--would you be old enough to be my father. Uncle, maybe, but not father."

Severus' lip did that lop-sided curl she so loved, and he growled in his chocolatey-velvet purr, "Uncle, heh? Well, I love you too, my wicked little kitten. So there you have it, and me with it. Where do we go from here, love?"

"Anywhere you say, Severus! Anywhere, anytime, anyway; what ever you say!" Hermione joyously shouted, upsetting the tray as she launched herself across it to tackle the wizard of her dreams, and nearly smother him with her kisses in the process.

Harry fell back in complete exhaustion, panting hard, and wiping the sweat off his face with the hand still bearing the repeating scars 'I must not tell lies'. Elle rolled over to spoon against his left side, and threw her right leg across his muscular thighs, as her right arm encircled Harry's toned abdomen. She let her slender fingers trace little circles in the sweat trailing down his chest; the salty drops that seemingly had her so completely fascinated.

"Harry?" Elle finally whispered. "Harry, what do you feel for me? Anything you say is okay. I know it was just a ritual. But that's not all it was for me. Harry . . . Harry, I think I love you!" She didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his, afraid of what she'd see there; that she'd just been the convenient means of ridding him of the 'burden' of his virginity--nothing more.

Harry froze in amazement. Elspeth, his beautiful dark goddess, had just said she loved him! His stomach felt like he'd just executed a Wronski Free-fall Maneuver a mile above the Quidditch pitch. He couldn't even catch his breath, much less actually speak!

It wasn't until he felt a hot tear sting his chest that his power of speech returned, and he exclaimed, "Elspeth, are you sure? I don't have the 'pretty' speech of Draco, or even the twins for that matter. I don't even know how to tell you how I feel about you . . . how I've secretly loved you for a while now, even before this ritual thing. Can't you just 'Legilimize' me and be done with it?"

Elle gave a watery chuckle, and wiped her eyes and the tip of her nose that had pinked-up. "That won't be necessary, Harry my heart! Everyone knows you don't tell lies," and she took his scarred hand in hers, and tenderly kissed each scar one-by-one.

At some point near dawn, all of the lovers all through the castle drifted off in a magickally-induced sleep. As the first rays of the new day's sun struck the rooftops and highest windows of Hogwarts, each girl was mystically transported back to her own bed, leaving only an indentation of herself behind in the pillow she'd been lying on.

Much later that morning, all the male participants of the ritual began waking up alone throughout the castle. They went about their normal showering routines, dressed, and drifted down to gather in their common room by unspoken mutual agreement. The guys were all cutting self-conscious glances at each other, and began talking about Quidditch, favorite hexes, anything except what had happened last night.

Ron's stomach began giving off ever louder grumbles and growls, and he finally asked plaintively, "Just where the bloody hell is Malfoy? Still primping up in the shower, poncey buggerer?"

Fred and George both smirked, rolled their eyes, and shook their heads in the negative. Neville just looked clueless, as usual. Harry sighed, stood up, and said, "I'll go look for him. Maybe he was with Hermione, and she's beaten him to death."

Harry was leaning on the doorframe of Draco's room, laughing as tears rolled down his cheeks. All the other guys came running, on hearing Harry laughing like a loon. They peered over and around Harry, pressing as far into the 'silencio'd' bedroom as Harry's blocking body would let them.

There, in all the glorious splendor of his perfectly-toned nakedness, Draco Malfoy lay helpless, unable to call for help because of the 'silencio' charm he couldn't reach his wand to release . . . tied spread-eagle to his bed by four Gryffindor neckties.

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron. "I think he really DID get Hermione!"

Severus stopped in mid-scrub to listen carefully. What in the world was that sound that he'd just heard echoing in his black granite shower? Silence. He lathered up his shoulder-length hair with his invention, tea-tree and witch-hazel shampoo, and froze. There it was again! He craned his neck around. Nothing. No-one. Silence.

As he was rinsing his hair, it finally dawned on Severus. He'd heard it again, and discovered to his absolute amazement that he was whistling in the shower! Severus smiled widely, and chuckled to himself. He was happy. Him! The old bat of the dungeons, the greasy git, Snivellus! Fate had finally smiled on his worthless arse, and Severus Snape was happy enough to actually be whistling in his morning shower. How droll! How treacly! How absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!

Now Severus truly had something worth fighting and LIVING for, a reason to not seek death in the coming battle as he'd planned to do; Hermione. Because by all the gods of heaven and earth, Severus Donald Snape truly was deeply in love with Hermione Jane Granger!

In Slytherin House, seven girls were waking up, sore but satisfied, to begin their showers and dressing to face this morning after the ritual. Gristle 'popped' into Hermione's bedroom bearing a gift from Severus. A black velvet box embrodiered with twining serpents of silver and Slytherin-green. It looked to be a jewelers' bracelet box, but when she opened it, to her surprise and pleasure it contained that enchanted silver comb she loved. And a note written in a familiar spidery, but elegant, script:

To my dearest Jane,

Please accept this trivial object as a

token of my eternal adoration.

Sincerely, yours eternally, Donald

Hermione sniffed the parchment, yes! That sweet herbally, sandlewood, and frankincense smell that was distinctly 'Severus'. She smiled dreamily at Gristle, and said, "Thank you, Gristle. Will you tell the Master that I send my thanks and appreciation?" Gristle bobbed her head up and down, and curtsied to Hermione as she replied, "Yes, my Lady. I's will tell Master mos' darek'tly!" and disappeared in a 'pop'.

Instead of the usual white robe, the only article of clothing the girls had been finding to wear, this time the castle house-elfs had brought each girl either her own trunks that she'd brought with her, or provided from the lost and left-behinds sufficient wardrobing for them to be able to appear dressed in pretty much their own tastes, sizes, and style.

All of the girls were waiting for Gillian to come out of her room. She was the tiniest, frail-looking little thing, as well as the youngest of them all, having only just turned seventeen last week. The other six girls had all taken to cossetting and petting Gillian, and the shy, bashful girl had finally started to blossom under their love.

Erika Bonham, who was clad in a black 'Led Zepplin' tee-shirt and hip-hugging Muggle-style flares, her curly honey-blonde hair swinging free and wild, just like Fred liked it--he said it looked 'rebellious'--stood up forcefully and whispered to herself, "If that idiot Longbottom's hurt her, I'll hex his balls the size of watermelons and SWEAR it was an accident!"

Just then Gillian poked her little fairy-like face through a crack in her door, and called for Luna. The two of them had built up as close a friendship as Hermione and Elle had, while nursing Professor MacGonagall in her animagus form. Luna rose gracefully up from her seat, and skipped over to be admitted into Gillian's room. The door was firmly closed behind Luna, and try as they might, no-one could eavesdrop against a 'muffluous' cast by Luna Lovegood.

The two of them emerged from Gillian's room about twenty minutes later. Gillian was radiant; dressed in a Hufflepuff-yellow chiffon sun-dress, her usually mousey-brown hair held back by a cage of her own braided hair, tied with Gryffindor-red ribbons, and the length of it flowing down her slender back. She was absolutely glowing with love and happiness, and a wide smile for all her loving sisters.

"Damn!" whispered Amanda Blake, in total awe. "Neville Longbottom must be truly something else in bed!" Five female heads bobbed in total agreement, and then they hurriedly changed the subject.

Hermione had also opted for a simple sundress, remembering how intently Severus had always watched her figure while she was wearing robes during the time they'd spent together in Salazar's private quarters.

She was also just vain enough to cast a 'glamour' on the dress, changing the white background and simple floral print to a blazing Gryffindor-red background charmed with a print of gamboling golden lions playing leap-frog with Slytherin-green and silver serpents.

If it was her fate to be treated like a scarlet woman and be ostracized by the wizarding world, now her only home, for loving and being loved by Severus Snape--why not only would she wear the color, she'd flaunt it like a badge of courage and honor!

END---CHAPTER---TWELVE


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** All disclaimers still apply, not J. K., yadayadayada! I own _nothing!_ Except my AU of this little tale, and the new characters I've introduced. Thanks for all your interest, and reviews are _**always**_ welcome! Rating: M: due to language, and of course, _lemony-snippets! _ Let's get to it, shall we?

**Chapter Thirteen: The Secret's Out; **_**or, ohmigod!**_** We've Blown Up Hogwarts!**

All of the younger wizards finally made their appearance in the Great Hall, sliding in just as the great clock struck the hour of tea-time. A slightly embarrassed Hagrid sat flanked by a hautily-icy Minerva on his left, and a benevolently smiling Poppy on his right. This grim _**'uh-oh' **_checked the six of the guys up short. They made their way over to the table at a more sedate pace, to gingerly select their places; five embarressed young wizards, trying _very_ hard not to meet Professor MacGonagall's disapproving stare. The only exception being the sole Slytherin wizard present, Draco Malfoy.

Draco defiantly met her cold willow-green stare with an arctic silvery-blue one of his own, and a proud lift of his chin. The old witch's eyes went wide suddenly remembering Lucius Malfoy at that age, before he ever became a follower of Tom Riddle. This boy--_man_--standing before her could never deny his parentage; he was the very image of Malfoy, but one who'd turned to the light instead of the dark. _**'And this soul was saved by Severus Snape,'**_ Albus' voice flashed unwanted, and was quickly repressed, through Minerva MacGonagall's mind.

Draco refused to take the seat the others were encouraging him to have, instead moving nearer to the doorway that led to the staff entrance. It was as if his godson's worry for him had summoned him. Severus appeared, and paused in the doorframe. His black eyes skimmed over the tableau that passed as _'tea'_, and he shot an amused ebony glance over to meet Draco's concerned grey eyes. Draco took in the fashion statement Severus was making, and understood what it meant in an instant.

Whatever had passed last night between his godfather and Hermione Granger, had been life-altering for the lonely dark man Draco had come to _wish_ had been his father! And in that same instant, _**Mudblood**_ became a _totally_ unacceptable term for Draco Malfoy. As a matter of fact, if he ever heard _anyone _call Hermione Granger a Mudblood again, _he'd_ punch them out.

Severus was, for once, casually dressed. Gone was the austere black woolen frock-coat, with it's myriad of tiny buttons. Instead he'd dressed only for his Hermione's eyes, just the way _she_ liked to see him; his white, expensive, soft linen, long-sleeved shirt, the first two buttons undone at his throat, his muscular thighs and arse shown to their best advantage in darkest black denim--_who even knew Severus owned such an article of clothing, or was hiding that body, except Hermione?_--and a pair of black, casual, soft-suede boots. His thick, finely textured, shoulder-length black hair was brushed straight back from his widow's peak, but it still tended to fall naturally in its' accustomed center part.

All five of the other younger wizards were gobsmacked into suddenly seeing Severus Snape as an equal; a _peer_. Because today, dressed like this, Severus suddenly looked ten years younger! Even Minerva was open-mouthed in shock, and as her astonished gaze scanned all the young men's faces, she realized that somehow acceptance had matured into adulthood, and defeated hatred overnight. She would still need a bit more time, but swallow her fierce pride she would! For the good of all the wizarding world she'd try to make peace with, and offer her forgiveness to, the transformed dark wizard in their midst.

Severus strode forwards, seconded by his godson. Draco walked proudly beside his godfather, the man who'd promised his beloved mum--Narcissa--that he'd do whatever it took to save Draco's soul from the Dark Lord, that summer when he'd turned twelve years old.

What a dreadful little _snot_ he'd been to Severus; peeved because he couldn't spend the Yuletide holidays with his beautiful goddess of a mother. He hadn't known then that she'd been recovering from a life-threatening beating she'd suffered at Lucius' hands, while _he'd_ been childishly busy picking squabbles with the Gryffindor Golden Trio, back at Hogwarts, in his second year.

Draco'd been rude, arrogant, and generally insulting. _Circe!_ He'd even _cursed_ at Severus, calling him by that hateful nick-name _**'Snivellus'**_ just like Lucius did whenever Severus had pissed him off! It was five years later now, with Severus patiently having served as Draco's mentor and sensei; after a multitude of private lessons on spying, and 'occulmancy', and many, many hours practicing tantric yoga, tai chi, and wizard's chess, for the discipline and deep thinking they required of him.

With crystal clarity, Draco suddenly understood that it had all been necessary to turn the spoiled, bratty, bully, who'd always run because it was easier than standing his ground, into a strong-minded, strong-bodied, confident, trustworthy, adult wizard. One who had learned first-hand what _true_ evil was by living with it for years, in that cold manor house the Malfoy's called _'home'_, and had been disgusted by it; unlike his _watchers,_ Crabbe and Goyle, who stupidly only lived for the day they could take the Dark Mark themselves.

Severus elected to sit beside Harry, leaving enough space between them for Hermione and Elle to be able to join them. Draco took Severus' right side, after making sure there would definitely be a place for Miranda on his other side.

Draco had _several_ biting comments just waiting on _that_ little minx! Of _**any**_ of them that could have come to his rescue earlier, of _course_ it had to be St. Potter that had to put his wand to work freeing Draco from his bondage! He had a trick or two already in mind to teach the vixen about _exactly_ who 'wore the pants' in their relationship. 'We'll just see how _she_ likes it when the boot is on the other foot,' Draco thought, and a wicked grin pursed his angelic face as he imagined his little Venus bound as he'd been, and writhing under _**his**_ ministrations!

The object of Draco Malfoy's vivid daydream came swishing his way. Miranda was wearing a Slytherin-green, body-hugging, short sleeved cashmere sweater, with a vee-neck plunge that made Draco instantly hard--which was _most_ uncomfortable--considering how tight the faded-blue low-rise flares he wore were. He shifted in his seat, manfully resisting the urge to reach a hand down to _adjust_ himself.

That multi-layered, lavender silk skirt that slithered and clung to the auburn-haired Miranda's curvy bum and shapely legs just didn't help the situation either! Draco now knew _all_ the delights of her pocket-Venus form, and just what her clothing both revealed and hid. He half-rose, as she sat primly down beside him, and he took the covert opportunity to ease his manhood into a slightly more comfortable position as he resumed his own seat.

Miranda arched her dark auburn eyebrow at him, and smiled as serene a smile as DaVinci ever painted on the Mona Lisa. Draco raised both of his eyebrows, as if in surprise, then smiled a _very_ similar smile to what a fox might give a little red hen, when the fox had finally found it's way into the chicken-coop.

Miranda went hot, then cold, then hot again, and a tiny bit moist in her knickers, at that _look_ in Draco's mesmerizing, quick-silver eyes. He was just bidding his time until at some point before this day was done, his eyes were speaking louder than _any_ words to Miranda, just _what_ they'd be doing as soon as they could feasibly steal away from the rest of their group.

Erika and Mandy entered arm-in-arm and strolled over to join Fred and George. Fred's green eyes glowed in admiration of Erika. She was tall, shapely, with a model-thin figure, yet somehow amply filling out the skin-tight black 'Led Zepplin' tee-shirt, with an inch or three of her tawny exposed tummy and belly-button peeking out of the gap her low-rise jeans left between its' waistband, and the hem of her too-short tee-shirt.

Erika wore a wide, silver-studded, black leather belt running in the wide belt-loops at the low waistband of her flares. It stopped short only three or four inches away from letting the world at large know she was _definitely_ a completely natural blonde--a rarity nowadays. Fred instantly began running his mind over all the possible places they might could slip away to. _Sweet Merlin!_ He just couldn't _wait_ to feel his lovely Slytherin writhing beneath him again!

George's thoughts were on an almost identical track as his twin, Fred's were. _Circe!_ Mandy's hair was definitely a bit longer now, but she still chose to wear it flipped up into spikey-tufts. It somehow suited her willow-green eyes, framed by those black brows and lashes, that it had grown back a silvery-white after being hexed off by Seamus last year. How _could_ he have never noticed this witty, funny, beautiful Gryffindor before? Was he a fool? Had he been completely _blind? _George sighed happily as Mandy wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him the most delicious snog ever; he was rapidly falling _hard_ for this witch in his arms, and he knew it!

Amanda's hair had always been a dull dish-water shade that had hidden, rather than shown off her eyes to their best advantage. Her just average height and looks had always held her in that most dreaded and fatal position for a teenaged girl, _just friends_, to all the boys. Mandy had never been able to attract George Weasley's attention before, even though she'd had a crush on _him_ for several years now!

Her going out with Seamus had only been a weak attempt to make George notice her as a _woman_, and not just a gal-pal. It'd been his indifference to her, not to mention the _hot item_ George and Angelina had been in Gryffindor Tower's gossip-mill after the Yule Ball, that had caused Amanda to feel so very lonely and desperate that she'd once fleetingly thought about _**hurting**_ herself.

A forced march to visit Moaning Myrtle, physically escorted by Hermione and Ginny, had convinced her that was a _stupid_ idea, to even have contemplated that in the first place. And Mandy learnt she wasn't alone in her painful feelings, after hearing about Hermione's first unrequited crush, Ron Weasley, and Ginny's young painful yearnings for an oblivious Harry Potter. But there comes a time when a_ girlfriend_ just isn't enough anymore. A time when a girl wants to feel a guy take her in his arms and snog her _silly!_

When Seamus had actively sought her out, and begged to be her escort into Hogsmeade that crisp Saturday afternoon, she'd been ripe for the plucking. They'd snogged and petted in a back corner booth of Madam Rosmerta's tavern. Even though they could only legally be served butterbeer, they'd managed to sneak a glass of Fire-whiskey. They'd surreptitiously shared it, the alcohol opening both of them up to confide in one another.

On their way back at dusk, he'd pulled her into the edge of the Forbidden Forest for another snog, and as one thing led to another, they'd ended up _'tumbling'_ on the crunchy fallen leaves right there under the frosty ancient oaks! They'd _totally_ missed curfew, and both had to serve a weeks' detention with Snape scrubbing cauldrons down in the dungeons, _without_ magic! That _us against the mean old professor_ mentality had forged them into a true couple by the end of their detention punishment. Mandy honestly believed that Seamus had loved her, and she _did_ love Seamus in return, in her own way--he just wasn't George Weasley!

Luna entered the Great Hall followed closely by Gillian, who was just a couple of steps behind the skipping girl that only had eyes for Ron Weasley. Luna was wearing a blood-red tank top, green and yellow striped capri-pants, and Ron's oldest, most raggedy, plaid flannel shirt, unbuttoned and hanging nearly to her knees. To Ron's eyes, she was _perfect_! So beautiful, his little Loonie bunny! He grinned lop-sidely as she stopped her skipping right behind him, flung her slender arms around his broad shoulders, and kissed the top of his red-head before slipping into her place beside him.

Neville had come to his feet at Gillian's entrance, and left his place, striding out to meet her. "Sweet Merlin! You're so _beautiful_, Gillian!" were the first words out of Neville's mouth, to the pleased surprise of Minerva MacGonagall. The next were, "I love you, my flower," which he whispered for her ears only. She blushed the most beautiful, faintest rose color, as Gillian shyly smiled up into Neville's warm, honest, brown eyes. Right there, in front of Professor MacGonagall and all the rest of the eyes watching him, Neville Longbottom bravely pulled Gillian Mayhew into his arms, and _thoroughly_ kissed the girl he fully intended to one day marry!

Elle was wearing a top she'd borrowed from Hermione; it was one of Harry's old Quidditch jerseys, complete with Molly-mended rips, and the stains that would never come out, its' Gryffindor-red barely faded and his name _**"Potter"**_ emblazoned on it. She wore it hanging loose outside her ripped jeans, her nearly waist-length, blue-black hair pulled back into a thick French-braid to allow his name to show to better advantage. It also showed off a burgundy-purplish love-bite on her slender, alabastar throat to glorious perfection! Elle's black-fringed amethyst eyes sparkled with adoration for only _one_ person in the room; she only had eyes for Harry, her heart. To Harry's eyes, she was perfectly _adorable_!

Harry's answering smile was wide and bright, as Elle began running towards him--her arms thrown wide open--ready to launch herself into his waiting embrace. Their instantaneous kiss wasn't long, but everyone present could feel its' passion. As Harry deepened their kiss, their unconsciously-combined magicks rolled out of them in uncontrolled waves of love and happiness, causing everyone present to actually _feel_ their joy right along with them.

Severus rose to his feet, and bowed an elegant, courtly bow. Hermione was poised in the same doorway he had come through himself only a short time ago. '_Circe!_ All that's missing is her diadem,' Severus thought as his thirsty ebony eyes drank in the sight of his beautiful golden lioness. She stood perfectly erect, her chin lifted slightly--giving her the haughtiness of a queen, her amber eyes flashing defiantly--each glimmer in them _screaming_ her love for Severus Snape! Her bright Gryffindor-red dress, complete with the Gryffindor mascot gamboling with Slytherin mascots, proudly proclaimed her choice of a mate--and _anyone_ who disliked it be _**damned!**_

She walked slowly towards her lover, never breaking the contact with his seductive black eyes. Severus walked forward, meeting her half-way in three long strides, and stretching out a long-fingered, ivory hand to clasp one of the slim hands of his very own little lioness. He pulled her the last two steps forward by the hand he'd gripped, straight up against his toned chest and into his embrace, to meet her startled lips with his own firm mouth. Hermione broke away from their kiss, to softly laugh up into his ebony eyes and whisper, "_Circe!_ How I _do_ love you, Severus!"

Those words, combined with that wicked little lascivious glint in Hermione's deep amber eyes, caused Severus to throw back his dark head, and laugh out loud in genuine amusement, to the shocked amazement of all present, as he tucked Hermione's slim hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her over to the seat between him and Elspeth Wilde.

Ron's hand clenched into a fist lying there on the tabletop. His lips pursed tightly, and he drew in a sharp inhalation through his flaring nostrils, as jealousy reared its' ugly head once more inside of him at the sight of _their _Hermione kissing Snape _**again!**_ _He_ didn't want Hermione in _that_ way, but bloody buggery bollocks! She could do so much _better_ than that slimy Slytherin bastard--what the hell was _wrong_ with Charlie? He'd made a play for her last Halloween at the family party in the Burrow, only to be shot down by Hermione with a laugh.

Luna reached up and covered his large, white-knuckled fist with her child-sized hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. No response from him. She leant her head over to rest it on Ron's tense, broad, well-muscled shoulder. When he irritatedly stared down at her, to his consternation he saw that her pale grey eyes were swimming with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment. "How do you feel about _me_, Ron?" she whispered sadly up at him. Ron didn't even hesitate. "I love you, Luna. I love you with all my heart!" he whispered back. He unclenched his fist, turning his hand over to allow her to thread her little white fingers into his large, calloused ones.

"Ron, will you do something for me?" Luna softly asked, with a hopeful note in her lilting speech. "_Anything_ for you, my sweetest heart," Ron replied in turn. Luna took a deep cleansing breath, and pressed her face more firmly into his shoulder, nuzzling into his warmth. "Forget that he was the Professor you hated most; forget everything you've _ever_ thought about Severus--all your prejudices and preconceived notions. Let _go_ of them. Just let go of _everything,_ except your brotherly love for Hermione herself. Don't you want her to be as happy as _we_ are? Do you begrudge her the equal right to love the one who makes her feel the same way you make _me_ feel?" Luna softly whispered.

"But Merlin's Balls, Luna! He's _**Snape**_, by all the gods!" Ron groaned in response. Luna sighed, and tried again, "Ronnikins, look at Hermione. I mean _really_ look at her, then look at him, and tell me what you see." Almost against his will, Ron did as Luna had begged.

Hermione's face was _glowing_, like she was emitting an inner _**lumos**_, and her smile was as warm as the spring sunshine outside, as she gazed lovingly up at her dark wizard. Ron swallowed hard, and even though he didn't _want_ to, he turned his head slightly to look directly at Snape. _**The gods help him!**_ Severus Snape was practically glowing himself, his black eyes vulnerable, and honestly filled with love for Hermione. _**Shit!**_

Ron gave a ragged sigh, shook his head slowly in disbelief, and softly said to Luna, "He _does_ love her, doesn't he?" Luna squeezed his hand again, and smiled up at him as she replied, "Yes, he does. He truly _does_ love her, and has for quite some time now. And more importantly, _Hermione_ loves _him_! As her friends, we all need to support her choice, or we'll lose her friendship. Are your prejudices worth losing one of your best friends over?" Ron bowed his head, and whispered, "_**No!**_" Luna smiled, and hugged him tightly as he drew in and exhaled a ragged, calming breath.

Sitting there, held in Luna's surprisingly strong embrace, Ronald Weasley quietly accepted the fact that the sodding greasy git made his 'Mione happy--and just like Luna said, Hermione _was_ in love with the bastard. He definitely did not _like_ it, but there it was; Snape was Hermione's choice, and for _her_ sake, he'd make nice.

Severus was busily constructing a complex image in his mind's eye; a flower he'd seen growing in the Serpent's Garden. Part of his mind was carrying on a conversation with Draco, but all the while just behind his 'third eye', the image of that flower was coalescing into a perfect, technicolor, three-dimensional object. When even its' heady fragrance could be scented within his mind, Severus gave the slightest wriggle of his fingers, and gave off the faint glow of wandless magic. A perfect oriental Tiger-lily instantly appeared on the empty plate in front of Hermione.

She gave a delighted gasp, and picked up the blossom to lift it to her nose to inhale its' soft, exotic perfume. "Oh Severus! It's _beautiful!_ Thank you!" Hermione softly said, as she turned to face him, her eyes glowing. "Here, let me," he purred in that lovely chocolately-deep timbre. He took the bloom from her hand, and gently brushed her long, honey-brown curls back as he delicately slid the tiger-lily to rest over her left ear. "Wearing a flower over your right ear means you're available," Severus growled softly, "Over your left ear means that you're taken. And you _**are**_ taken." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course I'm taken! I'm taken by everything about you. I _love_ you, Severus Snape," Hermione replied with a twinkle in her honey-amber eyes, as she reached over to stroke his firm jaw with a tender hand. He caught her hand, and pressed a hot, swift kiss into her palm. That simple action held _worlds_ of promises to her of all the things they'd be doing later that night, when they were in private. Hermione felt the erotic shiver run completely through her straight to her very bones, and her mind drifted over into such _wanton _thoughts!

Draco had witnessed this _'oh, so romantic'_ gesture, and been instantly intrigued. After Severus had finished tucking the bloom into Hermione's hair, and straightened back up, Draco leant closer to Severus' other side. "Neat trick for guaranteeing a shag," Draco snidely whispered with a hint of amusement, meant to be heard by Severus' ears only.

Severus turned a stony face to meet Draco's dancing silver-blue eyes. He raised a haughty jet-black eyebrow, then gave a snarkily agreeing twist of his full lips, before he sardonically replied aloud, "There are _worlds_ of differences between a _shag_ and making love, Draco. I'd never even have bothered for just a 'shag'. But with Hermione . . . well, it's just . . . _different!_" The piercing onyx stare fixated, boring into Draco's soul--like a kind of reverse-_**Legillimize.**_

Draco swallowed hard, and nodded his head. He'd asked for it, and he'd gotten it. Draco really _did_ get it; Severus had never planned to actually _live_ through the final battle. He'd fully expected, and maybe even intendedto _actively_ seek out death, in the midst of the fighting to come. Hermione Granger had given this lonely, unloved man the desire to _live_ again. The desire to _love_ someone again. Twenty years was an _awfully_ long time to be in love with a dead woman after all, especially when that woman had never returned your feelings!

A sudden deep boom of baritone laughter at something Potter had said to Severus, pulled Draco out of the blue funk he'd begun to descend into. He glanced over barely in time to catch a glimpse of movement under the edge of the table.

Draco froze, his horrified eyes locked into position. To his utter and complete shock, he was witnessing Hermione Granger's hand under the table uncupping his godfather's dick, only to give it a sensously slow kneading, as Severus stretched out one long leg and slid down slightly in his seat to grant her better access, and then the little hand glided back across a black-denim encased, muscular thigh. '_Ohmigod!_ I've gone _blind!' _Draco's brain screamed at him, 'Quit _looking_--don't **look**--_oh_ _**fuck!**_ _Too_ much _information_--_**TOO**_ much **information!**'

There was no way in _**hell **_that Draco Malfoy would _ever_ be able to look at Hermione Granger as a stuck-up, goodie-two-shoes Gryffindor again! Feeling up _Severus Snape_ under the tea table, in front of _everybody_; now _that's_ some serious kink! And the chit was just _sitting_ there, carrying on a straight-faced, nonchalant conversation with St. Potter _while_ she was doing it! _Bloody Hell!_ If _he'd_ only have had a _clue_ four years ago . . . why, _he'd_ have made a move . . . hold up, _wait_ a minute . . . just how long _had_ Severus had this thing for Little Miss Know-It-All Gryffindor?

Draco's attention was brought immediately back to his surroundings by the feel of a small hand sliding across his _own_ denim encased thigh. Miranda's emerald green eyes were _willing_ him to face her, when he suddenly turned to let her see the burning lust glowing in the silvery depths of his eyes.

She shifted slightly in her seat to gain better access to his lap, and leaning forward, began to ask him to explain about a counter-curse he'd discovered in one of Severus' old books. All the while, Miranda was inching her hand over to massage the erection that by now was becoming a _seriously_ throbbing issue for him. Draco hissed under his breath at Miranda, "Oh, I will _**so**_ make you pay for this later, you little _minx_!" But he didn't attempt to stop her.

In any event, there were _many_ covert touches going on, even discreet little snogs, happening all around the Great Hall, in addition to much cheery conversation, and yummy morsels to consume. For the life of her, Minerva MacGonagall wouldn't have stopped their happy comraderie for all the world. She knew only _too_ well that these few wizards and witches sitting before her were about to willingly walk into the heart of darkness . . . to do battle in a war that they hadn't wanted, and might not survive. Who was _she_ to deny them this simple chance to be happy, to _**live? **_

And so tea-time was passed in a rather more pleasant fashion than what they'd been enduring everyday ever since MacGonagall's recovery. She never looked Severus, or Hermione either, for that matter, directly in the eyes during the lavish, replenishing tea the castle house-elfs had served up; but neither was she rude to either of them, not once, during the entire cheerful meal.

This gave Hermione the slim hope that her former Head-of-House would come 'round, and accept the fact that her most cherished, prized pupil was now an adult witch. One perfectly capable of choosing independently, and correctly, for her own self. Hermione was well aware that Minerva had her married off _'happily ever-after'_ to Harry Potter in her mind for years now. To have to re-adjust her mindset to put Severus Snape into her mental image of Hermione's future happiness _must_ have been a bitter little pill for Minerva to have to swallow. Especially considering what had transpired concerning Dumbledore's death!

Severus leant over to quietly say, "Don't fret, love. Minerva will come around, just you wait and see. I know whereof I speak. It's sometimes taken her months, but she's _always_ forgiven me before--and has ever since _I_ was her student here. She might not _like_ doing it, but do it she will. It'd be what Albus would've wanted, and she knows that only _too_ well." Hermione gave him a half-hearted, sad little smile at the _wealth_ of pain, and self-loathing, that she could hear in his deep, beautiful voice. She just yearned for everyone else to see Severus the way _she_ saw him; because she loved him so desperately, it distressed her sensibilities to have anyone be mean to him.

Severus stared blindly into his cup of tea, smiling inwardly as he read her protective thoughts concerning him. No one had _ever_ loved him in his whole life like this brave-hearted young witch sitting beside him, not even his own mother. He was in total awe of the amazing _depth_ of Hermione's love--it radiated from her as brightly as a thousand suns! Severus swallowed down another sip of his rapidly cooling tea, and made himself a promise. Like Lupin, if he actually _lived_ through the coming battle, he was going to ask Hermione Jane Granger to marry him . . . the rest of the wizarding world be _**damned!**_

_**later . . . ,**_

The guys were on a mission of mercy; Remus had to be found and dosed again with his potion on this last night of the full moon, preferably _before_ moon-rise! It was almost dusk when Neville Longbottom finally spotted him, cowering deep inside a bramble-briar thicket. Lupin was licking a multitude of scratches, and attempting to gnaw a few thorns out of a very hairy forearm.

Lupin was pointedly ignoring all of Neville's efforts to coax him to come forward a bit, so he wouldn't have to experience the sharpness of the thorns for himself. Harry squatted down to peer into the prickly shadows, and called to him, "Professor Lupin? Remus? We have your potion here. Come, sir, take your potion please." Lupin cowered further back into the brambles, and emitted a sharp, distressed, whine. It was as if he were _ashamed_ of all of the younger wizards seeing him like _this_.

Harry felt a shock, like an electrical jolt, shoot through him as Severus laid a firm hand on his shoulder. 'Surely _Snape_ hasn't just squeezed my shoulder,' thought Harry, when Severus quietly said, "Let me try, Potter." Harry scooted back to allow Severus to kneel down and take his place at the entrance of the most uncomfortable 'den' Remus Lupin could have _possibly_ chosen.

"Remus? Remus, you know me, don't you? It's Severus; I brew your potion, remember?" After a few minutes of more distressed whimpers, and whining, the briar-bush finally began to rustle as Lupin crept hesitantly forward. "Here's your potion for tonight's moon, Remus," Severus softly said, as he set the bottle just inside the entrance Lupin had made for himself into the thicket, and backed away.

A blond, hairy, _limb_ stretched out to snatch the bottle up; it was more paw than hand, with long, razor-sharp claws. The werewolf swallowed down the potion with a stomach-churning sound of gulps, gurgling, and slobbers, and then retreated back deeper in the thicket. Severus said only loud enough for Harry, and the hearing-heightened werewolf, to understand, "Your clothes and wand will be in the usual place before dawn." To Harry, Severus gave a swift jerk of his dark head to indicate _**'let's get the hell out of here!'**_ Harry was mentally _way_ ahead of Severus on this point, and was already scuttling his way back up the hillside and up onto the pathway where all the others stood nervously waiting for the two of them.

Severus hastily climbed the slight rise, and clambered back up onto the path himself. "Let's go, gentlemen. Mission accomplished. Why don't we all return to the castle and get cleaned up before supper?" All the younger wizards were in _complete_ agreement, and had already rapidly began their trek back to get out of the Forbidden Forest before the moon could rise. Severus called out, "Stay, Potter. Walk with me."

Harry stopped in his tracks, already a good twenty feet ahead of the older wizard, and turned slightly back to watch Severus striding towards him, his black robe flaring out in menancing swirls around him as he walked. 'I've _**got**_ to get him to teach me how to do _that_,' flashed through Harry's mind.

After all these years, Harry could _still_ be impressed by the dark Potion Master's prescient image, and the awesome power he exuded. It could almost have became hero-worship; if the bloody bastard hadn't embarrassed the painfully shy, unloved, and unwanted little first-year Harry that morning experiencing his very first Potions class.

_That_ little boy had been utterly impressed by the scary, powerful, dark image this Professor presented. And then that _voice!_ That deep, rolling, almost poetic baritone had Harry hanging onto Snape's every word that morning; copying it down furiously onto his parchment, racing to get each word written, so that he'd lose _nothing_ this powerful wizard could teach him. That's when the snarky bastard had singled him out, and cruelly grilled him for information he'd never even heard of!

No chance was given for Harry to attempt explaining that _he'd_ never even _heard_ of the Wizarding World, until he'd gotten the letter that had changed his life a few days ago; even if the bloody wizarding world _did_ know all about _him!_ Harry had an epiphany! _That's_ when he'd first began to hate Severus; to mistrust him, and to try to turn others against him. _That _was the moment he'd gotten it _wrong!_

Things had changed now. _Now_ Harry was an adult, and had first-hand experience that adults can and do make mistakes and carry grudges, too. He mentally took firm hold of _that_ piece of his inner child, and soundly spanked it's little arse!

Harry had turned completely around, in more ways than simply physically, as he faced Severus, greeting his old professor with a wry grin and the words, "Severus, don't you think you can bring yourself to finally call me Harry? I mean, seeing as how you're courting my _sister_, and all?"

_**meanwhile back at the castle . . . ,**_

The girls were all sitting around their private commonroom while the guys went out on their mission of mercy for Remus. They were talking on various subjects, and Luna piped up out of the blue with, "I wonder what is happening _outside? _I mean, we've been cloistered up in here for almost a month now. What's the other side been up to while we've been safe inside Hogwarts? What are we likely to be facing? I think we should find out, don't all of you?"

Six other heads nodded their agreement, amazed that _Loonie Lovegood _had been the one to notice this enormous gap in their training schedule. Luna sighed in total exasperation, and huffily said, "Look, I know I might be a bit . . . _different, _but I'm _not_ stupid! I _was _sorted into Ravenclaw, after all."

Gillian threw her thin little arms protectively around Luna, and hugged her best friend close, saying as she did so, "Luna, how would _you _suggest we contact the outside world? It's not safe enough now for any of us to go into Hogsmeade to buy a newspaper. And they've shut down the floo network, so that no enemies can use it to invade Hogwarts. The only owl in residence belongs to Harry, and Hedwig is well-known enough to be a target for Deatheaters to track us down by. So what can we do?"

All the young witches found themselves on the horns of a dilemma, as they all began to go over plan after plan--only to find some fatal flaw after the first few minutes of discussion. Luna had been sitting cross-legged, silently tapping an index finger against her chin, not participating in their planning at all, but her brow _was_ furrowed in deep thought, or maybe she was just _daydreaming! _ Her six sisters couldn't always tell which was which where Luna was concerned, but they all still loved the goofy little puss anyway!

Luna gave an excited little squeal, and jumped up to hop up and down, clapping her tiny hands. Hermione was the one who grabbed her, to hold her still, and asked, "Luna, what have you come up with?" Luna hugged Hermione tightly, and smacked a quick, affectionate kiss on her cheek.

Luna drew in a deep breath, and looked around at the six other girls saying, "What about _elfin_ magicks? Their magicks work _inter_-dimensionally; our magicks work _intra_-dimensionally! We could send a house-elf out for news. It should have no problems crossing back and forth through the Atlantean Charm! It'd have to be one we could trust with our very lives, though. Not just an ordinary kitchen-elf. Does anyone here have their personal house-elf with them?"

Hermione immediately summoned Dobby. At first Dobby was just a wee bit irate at being lent out, just like back when he'd been a slave to Family Malfoy. Now Dobby served by _choice,_ not by force. He was a free-elf, after all! But after Miss Hermione had explained to Dobby for the third time how this would be so _very _helpful to Harry Potter, how Dobby would _really _be on a spying mission for his Master, Dobby became willing to do this thing Miss Hermione and Miss Luna were asking him to do.

Luna smiled most sweetly at Dobby, and gave him the directions to _'Lovesease'_, her family manor house, and a message and an order to her personal house-elf, Scratch. Dobby was to bring back this 'Scratch' fellow for Miss Luna, and together they were to bring back one month's worth of back-issues of the two main British Wizarding newspapers.

All the girls were congratulating themselves on a job they'd assumed was 'well-done', when Dobby saw the fatal flaw in _this_ plan, too. He tugged at Miss Luna's shirt tail. Luna looked down, and at the worried look on his homely elfin face, she 'shushed' the others and gave him her full attention. Dobby sighed and asked, "But Miss Loonah, whats' if'n this 'Scratch' fellar don' beliefs youse sent I'se?"

_Damn!_ They hadn't thought about that! Luna knelt down to put herself eye-to-eye, so to speak, with the worried Dobby. She reached around to the back of her neck, untied her blood-stone Nargle amulet, and placed it around Dobby's neck. As she tied it in place, she told Dobby, "Show _this_ to Scratch. It will prove that _I_ sent you."

Dobby bowed low to this very _fairie_-like human. Dobby _liked_ this human! She was _different! _ He was _deeply_ honored by her entrusting him with her precious. He'd keep it safe. He'd complete his mission. He'd help Harry Potter! With a twinkle of his wide elfin eyes, and a _snap_ of his fingers, Dobby was gone!

First ten minutes passed, then thirty minutes passed, finally after Dobby had been gone almost an hour, all the girls were getting worried. They each and every one of them, even Muggle-born Hermione, knew that house-elfs were 'low magickal creature' in the order of how things worked in their world. They weren't immortal; they could be killed almost with impunity. _Merciful Merlin!_ Their dead bodies could even be stuffed and mounted for the amusement of their more sick, twisted Masters!

Two loud, consecutive 'pops' heralded the appearance of Dobby and Scratch. They were both laden down with newspapers, the sight of which caused a happy chorus of squeals and snatching up of papers. The two house-elfs looked at each other, and shrugged their shoulders. Dobby had returned the precious to Miss Luna, and at her nicely-asked order, he then took Scratch on a tour of the house-elfs duties and sleeping arrangements he'd need to know about for their stay at Hogwarts.

_**much later . . . ,**_

The female half of their partnerships were already seated at the supper table that night, waiting to be joined by their male counterparts. As the wizards all drifted in and assumed their seats, to their amazement they each found a stack of neatly folded _**Dailey Prophet**_'s and _**Quibbler**_'s beside their plates.

Severus had been the first of them to join the ladies for supper. Although nothing in his composed expression gave even the tiniest inkling of Severus' excitement, the interested glow inside his black eyes, and the crisp 'snap' he gave to the paper on top before he began to peruse it simply spoke _volumes_ to Hermione! She was beginning to be able to _read_ some of Severus' mannerisms and learn what they meant.

The only news Harry, Ron, Draco, Fred, and George were immediately interested in were the Quidditch scores and latest news about their favorite teams and players. They were gabbling back and forth like over-excited first-years at their very first ever Quidditch match! This caused much eye-rolling and loud sighs for attention from their female companions, but even such blatant mannerisms were currently beyond the recognition of the sports-crazed guys.

_"Dunderheads!"_ Severus murmured under his breath, as he laid his first paper neatly down, and reached a lazy arm over to pull Hermione up onto his lap, and share a languid plunder of each other's mouth with her.

Neville had been busily organizing his stack of newspapers in order of most interesting front-page photograph. He suddenly went white, like he was about to faint, as he stared at this one of the oldest newspapers here. He came to his feet, thrusting the front page out in front of him.

It was a **Daily Prophet. **The headlines read_**: Terrorist Attack On Hogwarts!**_The wizarding photograph under the headline was of a cloudy, dark night with Remus Lupin clutching something tightly against his chest, running furiously up the pathway and then diving through the main entrance doors only seconds before a **massive** explosion ripped Hogwarts asunder, windows shattering, stained glass shards flying out of them, the ancient stonework of the castle blown to bits, and _everywhere _the school and grounds were ablaze!

The copy read_** Suspected terrorist, and known werewolf, Remus Lupin is shown here mere moments before the explosion of some unknown incendiary device, resulting in the destruction of beloved Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lupin was a former DADA Professor at Hogwarts, who left his position under mysterious circumstances, several years ago. Inquiries are in progress by the Ministry, but our informant tells us here at The Daily Prophet, that preliminary reports suggest that Lupin was a disgruntled ex-employee whose mental condition might have led him to attempt this act of devastion. The Ministry also regretfully is informing the next-of-kin of those missing and presumed dead in this dreadful event. Among the missing in addition to Lupin, are several Hogwarts Professors, and a select few students who were taking private lessons since the closing of Hogwarts last year. It is a truly enormous loss for the Wizarding World at large, that this tragedy took place just as Hogwarts was preparing to re-open for this term. **__More on page three._

Neville's voice quivered as he asked, "Is that enough, or d'you want me to turn to page three?" Everybody just sat there in various degrees of open-mouthed shock! No one could say anything to this quite literal bombshell. Neville's next traumatized words were, _"Ohmigod, _ Harry! We've blown up _**Hogwarts!"**_

_**End Chapter Thirteen**_

_**A/A/N: well people? what'd you think about this chapter? please be kind, and touch that little button down there . . . the one that makes me feel SO good . . . you know that you want to! theshadoelady**_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_First of all, to all my reviewers: Thank you so very much for the kind, encouraging words! They are SO very welcome! I do so appreciate Reviewsthey give me the spur I need to write more of my story. Secondly, I sincerely apologize for the tardiness of my completing and posting this chapter: I had a rather RUDE Realitybite(down with a particularly NASTY stomach virus, and just couldn't keep my brain in gear)!! It just absolutely SUCKS when Reality bites! OOOooohh Well! A different Chapter, same shtickI'm NOT . . . I don't . . . et cetera ad nauseum!__** Yawn!!!**_ So let's just get down to it, shall we?

**Chapter Fourteen: Guy Talk/Girl Talk; **_**or, I'm Hot For Teacher!**_

Severus' body remained perfectly still, loosely holding Hermione on his lap, as his dark head swivelled like a praying mantis' to pin Harry with a steely stare, his black eyes glittering with surpressed fury. Hermione felt the tension building up in him, and for the very first time since she'd fallen in love with this sardonically broody dark wizard, she was just a _tiny_ bit frightened of him. _This _wasn't her _Severus_ holding her any more. _**This**_ was _**Professor Snape**_, with his life-time of practice at being a Bastard _Extraordinaire___ She immediately slid off his lap, back over onto her own place to be out of the line of his fire.

_**"Mister Potter! WHAT did you DO?"**_ exclaimed Severus, in a chilly, biting tone. "And do not _**lie **_to _me, _Potter! I shall know if you even _attempt _to do so, of _that_ you may rest assured!"

These words, addressed to Harry, accompanied by the sudden change in Severus' demeanor, caused Neville to promptly _faint!_ This came as no surprise to anyone present, except for Gillian. She immediately slipped from her place, and crawled under the table. That was where Neville had slid after loosing consciousness, and she anxiously patted his face as she attempted to shake him awake. When he opened his eyes and saw Gillian hovering over him, Neville hugged her tightly to him, and decided that they were probably in the very _best_ place they could possibly be while Harry and Severus 'duked' it out, so to speak.

Draco was making frantic gestures towards Harry, trying desperately to attract his attention--with absolutely _no_ success! All of Harry's concentration was focused on Severus. "We needed to keep all of us, and Hogwarts, safe and hidden. The best concealment spell we could find on short notice was the Atlantean Charm, so I cast it! Why would anyone even search for us, if they thought Hogwarts was destroyed?" Harry truthfully answered, staring into those burning black eyes. "Besides even though _I_ cast it, it was Draco that _found_ it in one of _your_ books from your private library!"

_"Shit! _Just can't keep your mouth shut, can you,_ Potty?"_ Draco snarkily grumbled under his breath, as Severus' head, black eyes glaring, swivelled back towards his godson. _"You_ went through _**my**__ private _library, Mister Malfoy?" Severus coldly asked.

Draco nervously attempted to swallow, but the tightness in his throat was not permitting it. However, his voice came out firm and unafraid as he answered the question, "Yes, sir, I did. We needed something _more_, something _**powerful**_The Dark Lord had sent the Dementors to find us. They were tracking Lupin, and he led them straight to us. It _seemed_ like a good idea at the time, sir." Draco's voice trailed off into a nervous silence, as Severus continued to grill him with that black, bottomless stare.

The silence in the Great Hall was deafening, as Severus continued to alternate his biting glares between Harry and Draco. Finally, when Hermione's nerves could stand no more (her heart was pounding so loudly she could actually _hear_ it hammering deep inside her eardrums!) Severus slowly closed his eyes, shook his head from side-to-side, rubbed one long, ivory, index finger against the bridge of his nose, and then began to chuckle. His dark head tilted back, as his deep, baritone laughter filled the echoing room, to the amazement of everyone present.

"The Atlantean Charm, you say! And _you_ managed to cast it _**alone? **_Well, _well!_ You really _are _Saint Potter after all!" Severus snarkily exclaimed, once he'd regained his breath, and control of his amusement. "I seriously doubt if even the Dark Lord could have cast _that _warding alone, without using combined magicks! We might _actually_ stand a chance of winning this war . . . _if_ we can manage to keep you alive long enough that is, Potter!" Severus then bent down to lock eyes with the terrified Neville Longbottom under the table.

"You can come up now, Longbottom. I'm not going to _eat_ either one of you," and with these words, and that sardonic lipcurl of a grin from Severus, Neville hesitantly smiled back at him. An embarrassed Neville, along with a very confused Gillian, crept out from under the table and resumed their seats.

All three of the Weasley sons, and their girlfriends, had been watching with great interest during this whole exchange. It was Luna Lovegood that took the initiative to explain it all to the confused Neville, "Neville, you've been going all around Hogwarts, both inside and out for all these past weeks. Use your _eyes!_ We've not blown up _anything!_"

Neville was staring in confusion straight at Luna, as she spoke very patiently, and very rationally. He still scratched his scalp, and asked, "But what about the photograph? They don't _lie,_ Luna!" Luna gave an exasperated sigh, and murmured under her breath, _"Dunderhead!", _much to Ron's amusementbut aloud she said, "All that photograph proves is that one of the Deatheaters works for _**The**_ _**Daily Prophet.**_ How else would they have known to be 'on hand' to _take_ the photograph, when even the Ministry and the Order didn't know that You-Know-Who was sending the Dementors into Hogwarts itself? But the Deatheater-reporter, that's information we didn't know about before. We now have an unexpected _weapon!_ We could _use_ that person to feed . . . _disinformation . . . _to the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Ron leaned back in his chair, and whispered over Luna's back to Fred and Erika, "_Scary_, isn' she?" They both vigorously nodded in totally impressed agreement.

After taking a dumbfounded look at Neville's painfully slow up-take, Luna slowly shook her head, took a deep calming breath, and tried a more simple explaination, "Neville, Hogwarts is still standing, just as it always has! The Atlantean Charm presents the _illusion_ of destruction to _**everyone**_, except those protected inside when it's cast. The camera prints what the photographer _sees,_ so if the person sees destruction, that's what the photograph shows. It's truly a pity that now only a personally-bound invitation from a resident will allow an 'outsider' to enter, and be able to _see_ Hogwarts as it _really_ is! To anyone else, it will always look like a burned-out ruin. _That's_ the only downside to this charm," she regretfully sighed, and then softly continued, "Hogwarts has always been _so __**beautiful!**__"_

Severus was _most_ impressed by Luna Lovegood's devious idea. It was a _very_ Slytherin of her; and not for the first time, he felt the warmth of that ingenuous intelligence that shone brightly out of her fey-little mind. He might _personally_ believe that Divinations was codswollop, and a sheer waste of time, but from the innate abilities Severus could read within Luna's mind, she'd make a wonderful Seer! Perhaps he could drop the merest _hint_ to the girl . . . .

Everyone sitting around the table drifted off into their own personal happy memories of Hogwarts: the first time they'd ever seen it, coming across the dark lake as totally awed first-years, it's golden windows welcomingly glowing; the massive stonework covered in fluffy white snow in the winter, and the holiday comraderie along with the inevitable snow ball fights; it's charmed, ancient, stained-glass windows glistening in the sunshine at the re-greening of spring. They all took a long few minutes of just reminiscing, before the priviledged few present sadly realized that to the world at large, Hogwarts _was _destroyed! It would always appear to be a burnt-out husk, a ruin, just one more senseless casualty of this stupid war.

But what was done was done! The Boy-Who-Lived had done the very best he could with no-one to advise him, and they _were_ safe. Although, considering Tom Riddle's quite perverse attachment to the school, it _had_ to have been like a kick in the balls from _his_ point-of-view! When Severus ohsocasually dropped _that_ juicy little tid-bit into their supper conversation, everyone present, including Minerva MacGonagall, gloatingly decided that it _**had**_ been an acceptable loss after all!

It seemed no-one wanted to linger and converse after the meal was done. Draco and Miranda had already slipped away before the dessert course was even served! He'd offered to demonstrate the counter-curse they'd discussed earlier at tea, and she'd invited him to come back down with her to the Slytherin commonroom for just that purpose. They were fooling none of those remaining at the table as to just _what_ they'd intended to practice!

Ron casually draped his long, muscular arm over Luna's dainty little shoulders as he leant into ask her, "Luna, would you like to come up to my room and have a game of Wizard's Chess?" Luna lifted up her pale-grey, puzzled eyes to meet his hot, hazel-green eyes, and replied, "But Ron, I don't play Wizard's Chess." Ron's smile turned quite wicked all of a sudden, and he whispered, "I didn't ask you to come _play_ the game, luv. I asked if you wanted to _have _a game." He swooped in, and seared her lips with a quick, passionate kiss. "Never mind! Luna, would you like to come up to my room for the night?" She answered with no embarrassment at all, "Of course, Ronald! I would love to spend the night with you." And so they became the second couple to leave the Great Hall.

Neville was twitching in his seat, unsure of just how to go about getting Gillian alone. He didn't even _dare_ let his mind dwell on just _why_ or _what _he wanted her alone for. What if she'd decided she didn't _want to_ again? What if she was sore? _'Shit, Neville you wanker! You're a bloody Gryffindor! Grow some balls . . . if you're wanting to __**use**__ them, that is,'_ his mind screamed at him. He looked into those pale, trusting, sky-blue eyes, and smiled. Neville lifted one of his large, calloused hands to gently stroke Gillian's jawline with a single finger, stopping to rub it slowly across her full bottom lip. Then he leant in ever so slowly, to breathe against her lips, "Do you _want_ me, like I want _you?"_, and he kissed her with a passionate, but feather-light touch of his mouth. When he broke their kiss, Gillian licked her swollen lips, and whispered back, "Let's go." They spoke to no-one, merely held each other's hand and left for his room in Gryffindor Tower, as if there hadn't even been anyone else present in the Great Hall.

Amanda and Erika looked into each other's eyes, and nodded their silent feminine understanding. Who would have _ever_ thought it? Neville Longbottom must _really _be something else in bed! Their sisterly concern for young Gillian was finally satisfied, and they could now return their undivided attention to their own identical love interests, Fred and George. Fred pulled Erika tight enough against him to leave her no doubt as to his aroused interest in her. George slipped his arm around Mandy's waist, and in their doubled 'twin speak' the foursome agreed to take this on upstairs for the night. "'Night, all," merrily called Erika, as she pulled Fred towards the doorway. "We'll see you in the morning," Mandy said as she slapped George on his arm for pinching her bum, before she smacked a quick kiss on his cheek, and they all slipped away to race each other upstairs to the Fat Lady's portrait.

Minerva MacGonagall rose from the Heads table, and made her way down to where the last two couples remained; one, a pair of her most beloved Gryffindors, and sitting with them, a pair of equally dark Slytherins. She paused directly in front of Severus, taking mental note of both Harry and Hermione's tensing-up in preparation of defending the dark ex-Potions Master, if necessary. Minerva politely inclined her greying head and met his hopeful black gaze with her own still beautiful willow-green stare, from overtop of her wire-rimmed reading glasses. "Severus," was the only word she used, and then she walked on towards her own chambers and bed.

But it was enough. Severus gave a soul-deep shudder, as an unexpected peace suddenly rippled, then released, the taut muscles of his back. He whispered barely loudly enough for Hermione's ears to catch, "She's forgiven me!" in a tone of pure disbelief and wonder.

Even though he'd so positively reassured Hermione that it would happen, Severus personally didn't believe that the old witch would have _ever_ forgiven him for Dumbledore's murder. If he'd been in _her_ shoes, Severus knew _he'd_ be screaming for Hermione's murderer to receive countless _'crucio'_s, and when life was barely left clinging in the bastard, he'd demand a Dementor to perform 'The Kiss'. _'Gryffindor's!'_ he thought in awed amazement, catching Hermione's hand and lifting it to his lips, to brush the softest, most possessive kiss onto her inner wrist.

_"Severus!"_ breathed Hermione, feeling her bones melting at the heated branding of his unexpectedly possessive lips. He released her, and she straightened up from where she'd unwittingly slumped in her seat. Hermione could feel the waves of distress Harry was emitting. _Help me! Teach me!_ She _felt_ the words inside her mind, more than actually _hearing_ them. So like a dutiful sister, she lifted her amber eyes to meet Severus' deep black gaze and asked, "Severus, would you mind terribly if we all took a moonlight walk in the Serpent's Garden? Maybe somewhat of a 'double-date' if you like, since none of us can actually _go_ out on a date? I'd like a chance" she was cut off in mid-sentence by Severus' lips, as he dipped his ebony head to silence her rambling chatter the very best possible way.

Severus had already figured as much, knowing his Hermione's soft heart, and from the frustrated waves of uncertainty and panic screaming at his mind from Harry. _'Shit, Severus! I sincerely hope that the Boy Wonder catches on faster at sexed than he did with Potions! Because by Merlin's Balls, I intend to shortly bed my Hermione . . . no matter where, no matter what, no matter who's present, Harry Bloody Potter included!' _Severus irritatedly thought to himself, as he plunged his hot tongue into Hermione's mouth to shut her the hell up. _'But that might be the very lesson Potter needs,' _whispered a tiny, perverted voice inside Severus' mind. _'Shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP!!' _Severus mentally scolded that devilishly wicked voice, but felt himself hardening a bit anyway at the voyeuristic idea of actually _showing_ Harrythe boywholivedtobeapaininmyarsePotter all the various techniques of seduction. _'No. Damn! I'll not expose my Hermione to that . . . unless SHE wants to, that is,' _he smirked into her lips, unseen by anyone.

When Severus broke their kiss, he cleared his throat as he prepared to do what he knew Hermione wanted, even though it grated horribly against his nerves. He turned his dark eyes to meet Harry's desperate 'deer caught in the headlights' look. Severus had a quick mental chuckle at that look, but aloud he drawled the invitation that he knew Hermione wanted to hear from him, "Harry, Elspeth, would you care to accompany Hermione and me on a," here he strangled a bit, just trying to stay polite, and choked the words out, "double-date in Salazar's suite?" _'Say no, PLEASE say no,'_ Severus' mind was begging._'Oh, fuck it, they're taking us up on it!'_ Severus resignedly sighed.

Elspeth quickly shot a pleading look at Harry, sure that he would refuse. To her surprised pleasure, Harry nodded his head, and met her hopeful amethyst gaze, saying, "We'd be honored, Severus." He stood and offered his hand to Elle, helping her up. Hermione stroked the side of Severus' cheek, and silently projected her thoughts of appreciation and gratitude towards him.

At the wicked little lift of an inky eyebrow, and smirk that crossed Severus' visage, she felt a trill of excitement deep in the very core of her being . . . as well as a tiny gush of wetness in her knickers. Hermione knew without any words that Severus would ohso make her _pay_ for this later! She almost cancelled this 'date' herself, thinking about _all_ the ways Severus would be making her pay, and she felt a sudden throb in her netherregions for only _Him._ An irreverent thought shot across Hermione's mind, causing a very_ Slytherin_like grin to purse her lips, as she surpressed a giggle. _'Ohmigod! I'm hot for Teacher!'_

The last two couples left the Great Hall, and made their way down to Severus' chambers in the dungeon. Several minutes later, Severus stood in front of the huge mirror in his bathroom, preparing to open the way, then he stopped out of curiousity. He turned to Harry, and asked him, "Harry, can you _read_ these runes?", indicating them with a longfingered ivory hand. Harry answered, "I've never excelled in Ancient Runes, sir, but I'll try." He pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his hawkish nose, as he leant in to attempt to see the carved runes more clearly.

They looked so strangely _familiar,_ like he _should _be able to read and understand them. He stepped closer to the mirror, and almost as if in a trance, he reached out and traced the symbols with his right index finger. Elle stepped closer to his side, as she also attempted to read the strange symbols. She _had _excelled in Ancient Runes, but _this_ language and these symbols were both ohso familiar, and yet _completely_ unknown in _any_ of her studies. Severus bent nearer to Harry's shoulder, to whisper in that relaxing velvety purr, "Try thinking in Parseltongue."

Elle suddenly gripped Harry's arm so tightly as her mind spiralled away, that it was probably going to leave a mark tomorrow. Both of their minds had slipped sideways into that very reptilian part of their brains, and her left hand undulated up his right arm, so that her slim fingers were tracing the symbols along with his. Their hands and arms seemed to twine together like two mating serpents, and they both began speaking Parsel-tongue in unison. The unintelligible words coming from their lips made no sense to either Severus or Hermione, but the symbols began to glow just the same as when Severus used his blood to open them.

"What do these words say, Harry?" Severus querried softly, in his mesmerizing baritone timbre, desperately trying not to pull Harry back from that section of his brain too quickly. The images Severus could read there were _different; _dark, somewhat disturbing, and rawly primal, but not truly _evil,_ and he wanted to explore them further. It was _almost_ like being able to _Legillimize_ the workings of the Dark Lord's mind . . . without the unfortunate repercussions, of course! "Fascinating," Severus murmured under his breath, "Simply _fascinating!"_

_**an hour later . . . ,**_

The girls were inspecting the night-blooming jasmine that climbed the corner of the wall nearest to Salazar's alchemy tower. They looked like tiny, fragrant, white fallen stars. Their fragrance was simply intoxicating, and they each picked a handful and stuck them magically as ornaments into their hair.

Severus and Harry had been walking together, discussing the wording of the runes on Salazar's enchanted mirror. "What I don't understand is . . . if Slytherin _hated_ Muggle-borns, why would the wording be _'True Bloods'?_ Shouldn't it have read 'All 'Pure Bloods' who seek the protection and sanctuary of Salazar Slytherin, enter here and be sheltered from all harm'?" Harry asked Severus. "Were Pure-bloods called 'True-bloods' back when the four founders built Hogwarts?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge," Severus replied, deep in thought, as he stroked his chin with one long index finger rather absentmindedly. "Harry, history is _always_ written by the victors. _Never_ forget that! Perhaps what the Wizarding World commonly thinks of Salazar Slytherin, and all of Slytherin House for that matter also, has been . . . shall we say _. . . coloured . . . _by the misperceptions of his colleagues over their disagreement? It probably was then further distorted by centuries of telling and retelling. It is possible that even the original _cause_ of the founder's disagreement has been misinterpreted over the centuries. Rather like the child's game 'Gossip' or 'Party-line', if you will."

Harry slowly nodded his unruly dark head. He hated to admit it, but Severus _did_ make sense. All of his own personal dislike for Slytherin House, had begun by his listening to Ron's gossip while they'd been waiting to be sorted. That had been before he even knew _anything_ about the workings of theWizarding World, the duplicity of the Ministry, and before he'd learned to question the authority of a wizarding world that panicked at the very mention of one word: _'Voldemort'!_

At any rate, Severus had given Harry the honor of discussing topics that interested both of them, without being overly sarcastic or obviously condesending, and gave him the respect of one adult wizard to another. An ivory hand reached out to almost touch his arm, but paused to hover in mid-air when he'd caught Harry's attention. Severus whispered, "Not a word, Harry, until we can research this further, at a later date. We do not need to create a 'cause' for Hermione's sense of injustice to want to rectify at this time. It's enough that we now know that these chambers can truly be used as a fortress of last resort, _if_ necessary."

"Severus," called Hermione, as the two girls approached the spot on the gleaming-white, pebbled pathway where he and Harry stood quietly talking. "Yes, my love?" Severus turned to meet Hermione's outstretched hand with his own, his dark eyes and expression bland but interested. Elle slipped under Harry's left arm, to be pulled close against his chest; the top of her blue-black head nestling into a perfect fit against his collar bone.

"Severus, I'm in the mood for some music, and some conversation that is _totally_ unrelated to . . . ," here Hermione stopped for a breath, gestured with a vague wave of her hand unable(or unwilling) to complete the sentence, and self-consciously began to gnaw her bottom lip.

Severus gave her that lop-sided grin she loved, and acquiesced with the single word, _"Quite!" _He turned them to the right, as he led the way back down the stone spiral staircase, and into Salazar's private chambers. Hermione felt that Elle and Harry needed to experience a happier time there, to experience some decadence, to _learn_ about each other, like she and Severus had done. To celebrate _life,_ to celebrate love, to celebrate _Now!_ By the tender squeeze Severus gave her hand, she knew that she wasn't alone in longing for some _now_for just a short time. Just Now. Not Later. Not Tomorrowit might never come for some of them. Just Now!

Severus lit the fire in the massive fireplace in the outer room with a smooth, wandless, magical wave of his elegant, pale hand, and his spell, "Incendiare!" Hermione and Elle excused themselves to visit the loo, leaving Harry and Severus behind.

There was a stretch of silence between the two wizards that threatened to turn uncomfortable, then Severus spoke, "Harry, I need to send Lupin's things to the Shrieking Shack, and retrieve several things from my potions stores. In addition, I'd like to have a quick shower and change of clothes. I suggest you accompany me, to take advantage of a loan of fresh clothing, and use of my bathroom. Lovemaking is always more pleasant if both partners are clean." At Harry's startled expression, Severus' raised eyebrow came up to damnnearly touch his hairline. He sardonically quipped, "No, Harry! I'm not preparing you for participating in an orgy. Even _were_ I tempted, I would in _**no way**__ share_ what is _**mine!"**_

Harry released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. "What about Hermione and Elle, sir? How do we excuse ourselves to them?" Harry hesitantly asked. Severus sighed, "Damn, Potter! Are you _truly _that thick about the fairer sex?" Severus shook his head in disbelief, before he resignedly sighed and softly spoke, "The female of the species wants intimacy and wants to please her partner, where most males simply want sex." Harry nodded. _This_ he understood from hanging around the Weasely sons.

Severus was attempting to avoid Harry's curious emerald stare as he continued, "It doesn't have to be that way, Harry. We do not _have_ to be rutting animals, only looking to flip a skirt. The act of love can be a beautiful experience, if you're lucky enough to find the right partner. One who can fill your mind and heart, as well as satisfy your lusts. The trick is to put your partner's needs and desires first, and yours last. Believe me, _that _will bring you much more satisfaction than simply crawling onto a warm body and grinding out your lusts."

It was Professor Snape that began this lecture, and Harry rather felt like he should've been taking notes as Severus' deep voice purred, "The Art of Lovemaking is rather like brewing a potion. Each ingredient, no matter how seemingly insignificant, carefully added at just the correct moment, in the perfectly measured porportions, with the precise amount of delicate stirring, knowing the right time to increase the flame under the cauldron, and the exact time to tamp the fire, and reduce it to a slow simmerthese techniques, when applied to lovemaking _is_ the Art of Seduction, at least as _**I**_ practice it. Walk with me." Severus led a silent, but highly curious, Harry into Salazar's bedchamber, to await the ladies' return.

Elle's amethyst eyes were glittering with good humor, as she excitedly told Harry about the size of the enormous tub in Salazar's private bath. Hermione chipped in, "You should take a bubble-bath in it sometime! You can almost _swim_ in it!"

Severus scooped Hermione up clear off her feet, and locked her in a quick kiss as he spun her around. "What a _wonderful_ idea, Hermione, my love! Harry and I need to make a quick 'round' anyway, and leave Lupin's things for him to be prepared to face the day. We'll probably be gone at least an hour, maybe a bit longer. Why don't you and our guest share a bath, have some of the female conversation that I know is inevitable at times like these, and make yourselves comfortable?" At the stubborn lifting in protest of Hermione's chin, Severus suddenly found to his surprise that he wasn't above wheedling. He upped his ante, "I'll bring out my old radio as a special treat. Would you like to _dance_ with me again, my love?"

Hermione's amber eyes glowed into molten honey, as she reached up and stroked the lean line of Severus' cheek. She longingly whispered, "Oh, _yes,_ Severus! Please let's do it again! Let's relive that night, and have it come to the conclusion it _should_ have then." Severus dipped his mouth quickly to the left, and managed to sear a hot, moist kiss into the palm she caressed his cheek with. His jetblack eyes glittered with smoldering promises, and he passionately purred in an even deeper baritone, "You may summon Gristle, and she will serve you without question. I've ordered her to consider you her mistress . . . now that you are the Mistress of my heart."

Hermione was moved to speechlessness, an extremely rare condition for her! She simply nodded her head, swallowed hard, and managed to say, "Hurry back! We'll be waiting for you both." Elle was breaking away from the passionate kiss Harry had given her, and expressed much the similar sentiments to her lover, Harry.

The two darkhaired wizards walked away: one with perfectly straight, slightly longer, smooth, ravenwing black hair, a bit taller, powerfully graceful, with a fit, lean, more mature build of an adult wizard approaching his prime; the younger's dark hair was unruly almost to the point of 'shagginess', not _quite_ black because of the reddish-brown streaks here and there, not quite as tall as the other wizard, but with the powerful, perfectly sculpted, muscular body of a young adult male. Both girl's eyes trailed after her own lover, even after they'd disappeared from view.

Hermione summoned Gristle, and had the helpful house-elf draw a deep, hot, bubblebath with the jasminescented potion she'd used all those weeks she'd spent in the Time-turned past with Severus. Gristle then cast elfin 'warming' spells on the bathroom, and bedchamber. Even in the warmest of summer months, this deep into the stone belly of Hogwarts, it was always chilly. Gristle left the two young ladies soaking in the huge deep tub of silky, fragrant, hot water, to fetch them clean nightwear from Salazar's attics. Hermione made a point of specifically telling the mischievous house-elf _not_ to bring them_ haremgirl _outfits, which opened a whole new line of questioning from an amused Elle!

_**guy talk . . . ,**_

Severus laid out two identical changes of clothes with a minimum of fuss, and no unecessary movements, as his bureau and closets were as methodically organized as his brilliant mind. All black, just as Harry expected the clothing would be. Black, silk-cotton blend tee-shirts, black silk boxers (once Harry felt the luxurious hand of that fabric against his naked groin, he'd never go back to cotton underpants), and black men's yoga pants made of the same knit as the tee-shirts.

Severus then pulled a twine-tied brown-paper package from the floor of his wardrobe, and tossed it onto the foot of his king-sized bed. "Harry, could you have Dobby deliver this to the bedroom in the Shrieking Shack, since Gristle is occupied with our ladies?" Harry nodded his head, summoned Dobby, and gave him the package and orders. He then turned to Severus and said, "Sir, I can send Dobby to fetch me a change of clothes. It's really not necessary for me to borrow your things, though I appreciate the offer."

Severus arched a jaded eyebrow at Harry, and managed to sound affronted as he scoffed, "Why, Harry? Are you afraid the use of my clothing might _contaminate_ you? Let me reassure you then. These clothes are magically charmed to automatically clean themselves, and to fit the wearer. Hermione was the last person to wear the set I've loaned you. She wore them to practice tai-chi in the mornings, while we worked on the Wolfsbane potion. I seriously doubt if _she_ left any germs on them. If it helps you to justify their use, consider it the loan of a school uniform."

Harry picked up his set of black garments without further comment, and simply asked, "Who showers first, you or me?" Severus' face didn't change expression, other than a higher lift of a black eyebrow, and he replied, "Why, as my guest, you go first. Towels will appear when you call for them. There is a charmed shaving brush in a mug on the counter. If you lather your face, leave it for two minutes, then wash it off, it will leave you smooth-shaven. Sorry I can't loan you a toothbrush, but I do have a potion to rinse your mouth with that leaves your breath fresh for twenty-four hours. Do you need anything else?" Harry smiled and shook his head, "No sir, I believe you've covered it all." He went into the bathroom, and firmly closed and locked the door.

Severus opened the secret drawer in his bureau, and extracted a small rubyred glass bottle, opened the tightly screweddown lid, sniffed deeply at the contents to check for the herbal's freshness, and smiled quite wickedly before pocketing it. If noone else induldged, he and Hermione still would. She'd said that she wanted to relive that night, correct? Besides, it relaxed his brilliant mind, and had eased the pains of one too many _crucio's_, along with lowering his inhibitions so that he could _'share' _and _'talk';_ something really big in Hermione's vocabulary_**shocker!**_

A slow grin spread across Severus' face, and he went delving into his memories of Hermione from the last time they'd spent time in Salazar's chambers. _'Strange how accepting of me that little witch is,' _thought Severus, not for the first time. _'She knows most of the very worst I've done and been, and still she loves me!'_ He really shouldn't have let his mind go there; as some of the _**very **__worst_ he'd done came rushing unexpectedly back, flooding the back of his throat with a bitter bile, and obliterating the happy moment he'd had from only a second ago. Severus was _lost; _ locked in the darkest, most tortured, chambers of his mind. He silently prayed for a sound, or movement, just _anything_ to break the thrall, and allow him to come back from this terrifying brink that had unhinged him before.

Ten minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, still towelling his dark hair. "Thanks for the use of your shower and toiletries, Severus. I _do _feel refreshed and relaxed. And thanks for use of the clothes as well. They're very comfortable. I guess that I really do need to break down and let Hermione take me shopping, like she's always nagging me to do! Good luck on that," Harry quipped with a smile that faltered as he looked up to surprise a glimmer of self-loathing on Severus' face, before the man could resume the 'face' that he usually presented to the general population.

"You are most welcome, Harry," Severus thankfully said, snatching himself back from his dark past, and he gathered up his clothing before going in to take his own shower. "I'll be out shortly," he called over his shoulder, as he stepped into the bathroom. Harry had seen _that look _only one other time on the older wizard's face. It had been there in the few seconds prior to Dumbledore's murder. Harry knew what was behind that look, or thought he did; the same self-hatred and disgust he'd felt towards his own self when he'd forced that poisoned brew down the Headmaster's throat, cup after murderous cup. Harry shook himself, and to occupy his mind, he took advantage of this moment of unexpected privacy in Severus' most intimate chamber to take a look around. It had been Hermione that had once told him that someone's most private space reflected the closest reality to the innerowner of the space.

The organized way Severus kept his clothing and personal effects spoke volumes about how wellorganized the dark wizard's mind was. Frills and luxury were absent on every inch of the Potions Master's powerful person, indicating that he cared little about what others thought of him, except for these hidden, sensuous, and sinfully luxurious, silk boxers. Something secretly sexual, something noone except himself, or only someone on the _most_ intimate of terms with Severus would be aware of. So that would mean he'd _definitely_ not be a _'kiss and tell'_ wizard, unlike Guilderoy Lockhart.

Harry had gotten truly nauseated at some of the things that _'wizard', _for want of a better word, had bragged to a twelve-year-old Harry about, when he'd been serving countless detentions with the narcissistic pervert! Lockhart had liked them _young_; both male _and_ female! The wanker had even attempted to make a pass at _him! _Harry had truly been afraid for Hermione's virtue, what with her crush on the slick bastard and all, until she'd come to see for herself that 'pretty is as pretty does'. She'd been heartbroken for a couple of days, but it had been a learning experience for her!

Her handsome idol had proven to have feet of the basest of clays. It had been the two of them, Harry and Hermione, that had quite literally caught Lockhart 'with his pants down', and Lavender Brown bent over his office desk, after class one afternoon. Lavender had been a busty 'early-bloomer', but she _still_ was only twelve years old, just like them!

Hermione had ran out in a flurry of hurt tears, with Harry chasing after her. They'd finally decided to go to the Headmaster about the situation, after the Quidditch match that day. But then Hermione had been found Petrified, and their moment of confession and confrontation had passed by as unimportant. At least Severus Snape, at his absolute darkest, had never been even _remotely_ accused of improprieties with an underaged student of _either_ sex before!

Severus stepped back into his bedroom, perfectly groomed, his long, ebony hair spelled dry to lay in silky blueblack smoothness down just past his black tee-shirt encased shoulders. "Harry," Severus acknowledged with a nod of his head, before striding into his sitting room, turning to press a small stone in the wall, which revealed a secret doorway, and he entered his private potions laboratory. He riffled through several shelves, and different coloured and shaped bottles and vials, until he'd found what he'd been searching for. Harry had followed him, and suspiciously watched as Severus pocketed one of the little green vials, and held out a second one to him. "What is this, sir?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed, and explained as best as he could, "Harry, we may _not_ win this war. Even if we do win, _we _personally, may not live to see the victory. Would you leave the woman you love pregnant, and alone, to raise an unexpected child in the midst of that chaos?"

At Harry's thoughtful, negative shake of his head, Severus nodded in approval, and continued, "I wouldn't, either. Normally it would go against my inclinations of fairplay to dose an unsuspecting witch with a potion. But I've discovered that when a woman's heart is involved, sometimes rationality goes flying out the window! It's possible that they would even consider it their _duty_ to bear our child, especially if _we_ fail to survive. However, if Voldemort lives . . . I wouldn't want a child of mine to endure being bound to serve him as my replacement, or to be the whipping boy for my sins. Would _you?"_

"No, Severus, I wouldn't," Harry answered with cold, brutal honesty. Severus looked deeply into those emeraldLilylikeeyes, and nodded again at whatever he saw there, saying, "This is a simple conceptionprevention potion. Three drops provides twentyfour hours of effectiveness. It is virtually odorless, and tasteless, when disolved in something acidic and sweet, like wine or fruitjuice." Harry nodded again, as he accepted, and pocketed, the second green vial. "Thank you, Severus," Harry solemnly said, and the two darkhaired wizards left back through the charmed bathroom mirror, to return to the witches awaiting them in Salazar's chambers.

_**girl talk . . . ,**_

Hermione scrubbed Elle's shoulders and back with a soapy sea-sponge, and turned around to receive her own turn at being lathered and scrubbed. It was turning out to be _quite_ the sensual experience for both of them, as both girls shyly confessed to each other that they each had _'experimented'_ before with a female House-mate. Gristle had 'popped' back in with heated towels for them, and two similarly-made silk gowns for them; one white, one red.

The girls climbed the stone steps up and out of the massive tub, and proceeded to dry themselves. All the bottles and jars of unguents, lotions, scents, and breath-potion were setting around in just the order Hermione had used them during her former stay in Salazar's chamber. She and Elle smoothed their arms and legs, along with various other areas, with the sweetly scented lotion that Severus had brewed especially just for her. They went through the typical blushing and gossiping and giggles of all young women everywhere, as they prepared themselves for their _'dates'._

Hermione looked longingly at the red gown, smoothing one hand over the raw silk, and sighed regretfully as she passed it to Elle. There was no way possible that Elle could 'pull off' the white gown; she was just too pale. It would do _nothing_ flattering for the dark girl, except to 'wash' her out completely. _'Oh well, the white is just as lovely,'_ Hermione thought to herself.

Hermione slipped the softly rustling white silk over her head, and smoothed the long skirt of the gown over her hips and thighs, making sure it clung in all the right places. Elle did the same with her gown, and looked the most _'Vampirella'_ she ever had . . . but it _suited_ her dark, mysterious looks to perfection, and Harry deserved the _best _in Hermione's opinion.

The girls had talked about their fantasies, about what they'd like to do when the war was finally over, and about the best charms and glamours to use to appear sexy for their respective lovers. They had a wonderful laugh about ex-boyfriend's frustrations, when they'd not gotten into their knickers. Hermione had admitted to Elle about her first and only othertime being with Viktor Krum, when she had made such _careful_ plans to seduce Ronald Weasley, but then he'd spoiled _everything_ by not asking her to the Ball. She hadn't ever told anyone else about that, except Ginny of course, whose romantic jealousy and envy had finally almost completely soured their friendship. They were still friends of course, just not 'tight' like they were at the beginning.

Ginny had thought Hermione and Harry were _doing_ each other after their fifth year, when Hermione had only been comforting Harry after he lost Sirius to the Veil. She had actually _accused_ Hermione of trying to _steal_ Harry from her! Harry had actually been trying to pursue Ginny, in his own clueless, clumsy, way, and had discovered to his surprise that when it came down to it, he just couldn't perform the act with his best mate's little sister!

That had been when Ginny took Blaise Zabini up on his invitation to the Beltane Ball during Hermione's sixth year. She'd been extremely angry with Harry both for not asking her to be his date, and turning her down when she'd crawled into his bed one night. Ginny was feeling lower than hippogriff dung about herself, when the quite handsome Slytherin pureblood had way-laid the red-head that Monday, and asked to be her escort to the dance. She'd accepted him with alacrity, much to everyone's shock, including Blaise's! For him, it had been a dare that Draco had set, just a bloody _bet! _ For her, it had just been a way to spite Harry, and to try to make him jealous. It had ended with Ginny falling just as hard for Blaise as he unexpectedly fell for her, to both of their shocked amazements!

Hermione confided to Elle that it was just fine by her that Ginny had 'moved on'. "I mean, Ginny's my friend, and I still love her very much, but she could _never_ have made Harry happy on a long-term basis, Elle," Hermione regretfully sighed, before she continued, "Ginny was the only girl in among all those sons! She's been pampered and coddled and spoiled her whole life by both of her parents, as well as _all _of her brothers. She'd be expecting the same from Harry for the rest of their lives, and he doesn't need _that!_ I think that what drew him to Ginny to begin with is the same thing that drew me to Ron; that sense of home, and family, and safety. Harry's had a hard life, with no one to pamper and care for him. Once this war is over, it needs to be Harry's turn for a while."

Elle was quietly thoughtful for a moment, staring at herself in the bronze mirror and combing her almost waist-length, blue-black, straight hair. "Hermione, do you realize that almost the same things could be said about Severus? He's had a hard life; certainly with no one to pamper and care for _him! _I mean, of course as an adult, he's responsible for becoming a Deatheaterwith _all_ the ramifications _**that**_ title entails. But _why? _What made him become a follower of You-Know-Who, and more importantly _what_ or _who_ pulled him back before he completely lost his Soul?"

Hermione shook her head, and replied as she turned to allow Elle to comb her tangled, honeybrown, hair out, "I'm not at liberty to speak about Severus' past choices, or personal life. I gave him my solemn word that I'd respect and protect his privacy." Elle nodded at Hermione's suddenly tight-lipped, closed expression. It was the briefest explaination Hermione had ever given to _any_ question . . . ever! Those simplest of sentences spoke _volumes_ to Elle about the depth of Hermione's love and devotion to her former HeadofHouse.

_**the date . . . ,**_

Severus went around the expansive chamber filling and lighting the four hanging copper incense burners with a wandless magickal wriggle of his long, ivory fingers. Soon the sweet smell of incense and herbs filled the room with the smoke of mystery and sensuality. Harry had joined Hermione and Elle as they lounged among the pillows and cushions of 'the passionpit'. Hermione summoned Gristle and ordered her to fetch Master's music maker (the name the little houseelf had given her Master's radio), and by the time Severus was done, old rock music was again filling the chamber.

Severus joined Hermione and the younger couple among the pillows, assuming the 'lotus' position with one graceful sweep and curl of his long, muscular legs. He called Gristle and quietly ordered some refreshments for them to nibble on as the mood took them, to be delivered the next time she was summoned. He whispered something into Hermione's ear causing her to smile and blush, before she shot a wicked glance towards Harry. She nodded her head, and Severus dug in his right pocket, pulling out a small rubyred glass bottle.

Severus withdrew some kind of herbal remedy from the little bottle, and loaded the hookha burner with a tiny bit of charcoal and generous pinch of the herb. He started it smoldering with the same wandless magick that he'd used to light the incense braziers. As the herbal began smoking, the deepblue glass bowl of the hookha began magically filling with liquid. Severus pulled one of the long, silkwrapped tubes to him and inhaled a long, slow, drag of silveryblue smoke into his lungs as Hermione gently stroked his tense shoulder. He pulled her into his chest with one strong, sinewy arm, and she tilted her head back as his lips met hers, and he very gently exhaled the draw of smoke into her mouth, filling her lungs as she slowly inhaled.

Harry was in a state of _total_ shock! He'd tried pot before with Ron and the twins while visiting at the Burrow. He was aware of Hermione trying it with Ginny; they'd even all done it together before once or twice. But being raised 'Muggle', Harry had a problem with being very accepting of watching an older wizarda former Professor, at thatindulge. Drug use was _bad,_ wasn't it? His brow furrowed, as he watched Hermione blow the silvery smoke out in relaxed little rings.

Severus arched an inky dark eyebrow at Harry's expression. It was somewhere caught between shock, disapproval, anger, and fascination. _Fascination_ . . . now he could work with that! Severus took another draw, and passed the intricatelycarved, silver stem to Hermione, just as Elle reached for a second stem. Harry put his hand on Elle's arm as she pulled the silken tube over to them. She looked at Harry, truly puzzeled for a moment, then she brightened, and offered it to him first. When he shook his head, she shrugged her shoulders and inhaled for herself instead.

Severus stretched his back out, snapping the tension loose, and lounged back against the silken pillows, letting Hermione settle back against his leanly muscled chest. He ran a longfingered hand through Hermione's waves of honeycoloured hair, as he accepted the stem from her slender hand. The relaxation had almost immediately taken hold, and Severus contentedly sighed, as he brought a ringlet of Hermione's hair to his nose to breathe in deeply that sweet scent he just couldn't get enough of. It was fresh and pure; it was just _Hermione_, and he adored it! She tilted her head back, as she reached up and pulled Severus' head down for a lazy kiss.

Harry shook his head again, trying to wrap his mind around this new development. Elle reached over to stroke his jawline with a slender index finger, as she reverently exhaled. "It's alright, Harry," she softly said. "You don't have to indulge if you don't want to, but it's only polite that you were offered. It's not really commonly done here in England anyway, except by Slytherins. However, if you ever go to Egypt, or Morroco, or any of the wizarding communities of the East, it would be considered extremely rude not to partake if your host offers. 'Sort of like refusing to try the house label of a winery owned by a prominant wizarding family."

Hermione added, "I was raised Muggle too, Harry. I understand your qualms completely. I researched it, after Severus offered to smoke with me the first time. The wizarding community doesn't partake just to 'do drugs' and lead to addiction, like so many Muggles fall into. It's like a smokable potion, used sparingly, and only used on certain occasions, or for meditative or medicative reasons." She purred these last few words out, as Severus had begun to tenderly massage her neck and shoulders with his long, talented fingers.

Elle looked puzzeled, and asked Harry, "You mean Muggles don't know how to exercise selfcontrol, and they let the euphoria take them into addiction?" Harry grimly nodded, then clarified, "Yes, some do move to stronger, harsher substances, and become drug addicts. It's a hard, horrible lifestyle that tears apart families, and can even lead to death. There are vastly expensive government campaigns to battle the import and distribution of 'drugs' of all kinds." Elle rolled her violet eyes, and said in a wry, but nondescriminatory tone, "Muggles!"

She just shook her dark head, unsuccessfully trying to understand the concept that Muggles would _choose_ to become addicted. One of the very first lessons all good wizarding children learned was _control_; control of their emotions, control of their magicks, control of their actions. One had to learn to be responsible, to be _in_ control, before one could let go and loose control! She found it incomprehensible that not all peoples understood that simple fact. Elle took another slow draw from the stem, and leaned back against Harry's shoulder to ponder this strange chasm further.

Harry slowly reached over, and took the stem from Elle. He hesitantly took a draw and held it in his lungs. Almost immediately he felt his tensions and selfconsciousness melting away, and he passed it back to Elle. Harry glanced over at Hermione and Severus. She was returning the favor of passing the sweet, evergreensmelling smoke into his mouth, like he'd done to her initially. Much to Harry's amazement, Severus actually _shuddered! _They made it look so _sensuous, _so . . . _erotic! _ Well, he'd wanted to learn the art of seduction, and this looked to be something he could actually do for Elle.

Harry reached for the stem again, and took another, longer, deeper, draw of the delicate herbal smoke. He gently took hold of Elle's chin and tilted her face up towards his, leaning down to slowly release the smoke into her mouth, letting her pull it in at her own pace. _Damn! _It _was_ remarkably sensual, and Harry felt himself hardening as Elle nursed the smoke and oxygen from his mouth into her own ruby lips! He felt himself shuddering in response, and instantly he understood what Severus must be feeling.

_Sweet Merlin! _ This feeling was _awesome! _It felt better than the actual euphoria of the smoke! It was like having your soul sucked out, and put back, over and over again. Not scary and depressing like a Dementor's Kiss, oh no! _This_ felt like _mental _sex! The electric tingling started in his lips, where Elle's mouth was barely brushing his, and slowly consumed his entire being; brain, heart, groin, every nerveending in his body! He shuddered again, as she released his mouth, softly stroked his cheek, and melted back against his chest. Harry looked over to meet Severus' sardonic grin, and returned a wicked, knowing, little smile to his instructor. Severus inclined his dark head, before bending down to recapture Hermione's mouth in a languorous kiss.

A song began playing, an upbeat tune called _"Get Down"_, and Hermione gave an excited squeal, saying, "I love this song! My mum and I used to dance around the house to this while we dusted and cleaned! Come dance with me, Severus, _please!"_ He shook his dark head, and grinned that lopsided grin as he replied, "No love, I'll not embarrass myself gyrating in front of our guests like that beat deserves. I still need to be able to command a bit of respect, after all. Perhaps Harry?" Severus glanced over at the BoyWonder, to find him vehemently shaking his head 'No!'

Elle hopped up, saying, "Let's go! I never had to do housework because that's what house-elf's are for, but I learned these old dances from my mum and dad." Hermione gave an exasperated huff, remembering her ill-fated crusade on the behalf of the House-elf's of Britain. _'Oh well, the creatures are happiest when serving their Masters. If that's what brings them joy, who am I to deny them?' _she gloomily thought, before she stood up and took Elle's hand to lead her out to the open center of the deep maroon Oriental carpet.

As they began to dance, Severus summoned Gristle. "Yes, Master? Ist youse ready for 'freshmins?" Gristle asked while bowing low to him. Severus answered in the affirmative, and the little houseelf 'popped' out to almost immediately 'pop' back with a large silver tray loaded with both a crystal pitcher of icecold water and a carafe filled with the sweet bloodorange juice that Hermione favored. There were small ham-and-cheese rolls, sweet biscuits, grapes, blood-oranges, apples and pears cut into thin slices, and both dark and milk chocolate. Severus politely and formally thanked Gristle, which still amazed Harry, and the little houseelf bowed low to her Masteradoration emminating from every inch of her tiny frame. "Youse ist mos' welcome, Master," Gristle replied, her elfin face suffused a burgandy colour of embarrassment, before she bowed again and 'popped' out.

Severus was lazily watching the gyrations of the giggling girls, then turned his head to meet Harry's eyes. Harry's own eyebrows arched when he watched Severus' eyes instantly focus, and he alertly raised up to pour a crystal goblet of the fruitjuice. He then glanced furtively at the girls once more, before tipping exactly three golden drops from the little green potion bottle Harry hadn't even seen him extract. The little bottle was back in his pocket in a flash.

Harry suddenly realized that being a Potions Master would also mean that person could easily be a Master Poisoner. _'Why has Severus never tried to just poison Voldemort, and be done with the evil, murdering bastard?' _Harry irately thought. Severus answered him, just as if he'd spoken the question aloud, "Because before any morsel of food, or sip of drink passes his lips, it is tasted by captured Muggle slaves. If my attempt was unsuccessful, I'd also be quite useless as a spy for the Order because I'd be quite dead." Harry nodded, then did the same as Severus had done, making a goblet of spiked juice for Elle before tucking the little green potion bottle back into his pocket.

Severus called to Hermione at the song's end, "Come love, have some cold juice." Hermione skipped happily back over, only to launch herself into Severus' arms and plant a breathless kiss on his firm lips. She gladly accepted the goblet from his hand, and drank deeply. Elle was panting from the silly exertions of their dancing, and thanked Harry for his thoughtfulness as she drank thirstily from the icy cold juice he'd prepared for her.

Hermione reached over to take one of the ham rolls, and daintily bit into it's crusty bread. She sighed pleasurably, as Severus refilled her juice before taking a ham roll for himself. Severus indicated the tray with a wave of his pale hand, and Elle politely inclined her head as she reached out to take a roll for herself as Harry refilled her juice goblet, before pouring one for himself. He set the carafe back onto the tray, and took a ham roll for himself. Like everything else Harry had sampled that suited Severus' or Hermione's tastes, it was delicious!

Severus asked Elle about her family estate, Wildewoode, and the foursome's conversation dwelt on pleasant themes. Not one word about the coming battle, or the enevitable losses that were sure to occur. It seemed that without an actual verbal agreement, everyone present had decided to shut the world and tomorrow out for this one night. They talked and laughed and nibbled their way to sedation, occasionally getting up to dance to a song here and there, or leaning into their other half to exchange a short or lengthy kiss and languid stroke of hand against body.

The opening symphonic strains of 'their' song began to play, and Severus stood to his feet and formally bowed over Hermione's hand. "Miss Granger, would you honor me with this dance?" Severus softly asked. She grasped his hand, and he pulled her firmly to her feet, sweeping her into the patterns of the dance. Elle wistfully looked up into Harry's emerald green eyes, her amethyst eyes moist with the desire to be held and swirled around by him in time to the music. He whispered, more to himself than to her, "But I can't dance, my heart! I have two left feet." He glumly sighed. Elle smiled a watery smile, and whispered back, "Oh, Harry! It's just moving slowly in time to music. Not everyone uses fancy dance steps, that's what lessons are for. But I'd give _anything_ to have your arms around me! Won't you just _try?"_

Harry just couldn't refuse his goddess, especially when she'd begged _so_ prettily, so he rose to his feet to lead her out, and swept her into his arms. "If I break your feet, just remember _you_ asked for this," he murmured into her silky, blueblack hair. Elle's face was practically glowing, her happiness plainly showing, as she snuggled against Harry's chest. There wasn't enough room between them for _air_ to pass, as he pulled her tighter to him, and they slowly moved in a small circle as they swayed to the music. _'Sweet Merlin,' _thought Harry, closing his eyes, as his arousal became more and more obvious brushing against Elle's stomach, as they continued to circle in their dance._ 'No wonder this dancing stuff is so popular! It __**is**__ almost as good as Sex!' _ Harry dipped his head down to meet Elle's upturned lips, and lightly grazed her mouth with a whispersoft brush of a kiss. He felt her nipples harden against his chest, and she softly moaned into his mouth, before giving a small shiver of desire.

Harry opened his eyes to meet Severus' dark gaze over the tops of their respective witches heads, and tried to thank the older wizard wordlessly for everything. Severus' trademark eyebrow lift caused Harry to smile, and Severus gave a small smile back. As the song finished, Hermione seemed loathe to leave her dark wizard's arms, and he softly spoke to Harry, "Harry, I give you and Elspeth permission to use my private chambers tonight so you may have your privacy. Hermione and I will be staying here in Salazar's suite. Give Dobby my permission to come and go to attend you and your witch. However, please endevour to not break my bed in the process." To Harry's additional surprise, Severus gave the younger wizard a knowing _wink!_ Severus gave a wave of his hand, and the same song began to replay.

Just before he swept Hermione into the dance again, Severus added, _"Now_ would be a good time to take your witch, and do whatever it is you do in private, Harry. Unless you _really_ need visual aides in your quest for better lovemaking skills, that is, because things are about to . . . _heat up . . . _ considerably between me and _my _witch!" And with that comment, Severus bent Hermione backwards over one long, strong arm, and proceeded to deeply and passionately kiss her most thoroughly, before pulling her back up to spin her around back into the pattern of their dance.

Harry grinned and pulled Elle from the room, leaving Severus and Hermione still dancing the dance of their love, as they made their way out to go up to Severus' chambers for their very own midnight rendezvous!

_**end Chapter Fourteen . . . .**_

_**A/A/N: well, people what do you think? As far as lemonysnippets go, sometimes what you imagine is better than what you actually get. There will be more lemons in the future, rest assured, but we've got a bit of angst coming up next. I'll try not to catch anything else (but you can't get a vaccination against writer's block), and not be SO tardy with the next chapter. Once again, reviews are welcometruly expecting some flames from NarcAnonsbut c'est la vie!! People . . . this shit IS fiction after all!!! Much lovetheshadoelady**_


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